“New  York  Weekly”  Series 


BT 


GEORGIE  SHl^LDON. 


i 


AUTHOR  OP 


t'OUSAKEN  EARL  WAYNE>S 


riOnrL[T\y>  **L0ST~-A  rEARLE,»  EU.,  Etc. 


DII.MNGHAM.  PUBLISHER. 


SUOCESSOH  TO 

O.  W.  CARLETON  & CO., 

a>T3±3w 


Mrs.  Mary  J.  Holmes*  Novels 

Over  a MILLIOIM  Sold. 

THE  NEW  BOOK 

MARBUERITE 

JUST  OUX. 

“As  a writer  of  domestic  stories,  which  are  extremely  interesting 
without  being  extravagant,  Mrs.  Mary  J.  Holmes  is  unrivalled. 
Her  characters  are  true  to  life,  many  of  them  are  quaint, 
and  all  are  so  admirably  delineated,  that  their  conduct 
and  peculiarities  make  an  enduring  impression 
upon  the  readers  memory.  . 


The  following  is  a list  of  Mary  J.  Holmes’  Novels. 

TEMPEST  AND  SUN-  DAISY  THORNTON.  ETHELYN’S  MIS- 
SHINE.  CHATEAU  D OR.  TAKE. 

ENGLISH  ORPHANS.  OUEENIE  HETHER-  MILLBANK. 

HOMESTEAD  ON  THE  TON..  EDNA  BROWNING. 

HILLSIDE.  DARKNESS  AND  WEST  LAWN. 

’LENA  RIVERS.  DAYLIGHT.  MILDRED. 

MEADOW  BROOK.  HUGH  WORTHING-  FORREST  HOUSE. 

TON.  MADELINE. 

CAMERON  PRIDE.  CHRISTMAS  STORIES 

ROSE  MATHER.  BESSIE’S  FORTUNE. 

GRETCHEN.  MARGUERITE  (New). 


DORA  DEANE. 
COUSIN  MAUDE. 
MARIAN  GREY. 
EDITH  LYLE. 


All  handsomely  printed  and  bound  in  clotli,  sold  everywhere, 
and  sent  by  mail,  postage  free,  on  receipt  of  price  ($1.50),  by 


G.  W.  DILLINGHAM,  PublisheiV, 


3iiccessor  to 

G.  W.  CARLETON  & COMPANY  ( 

33  WEST  23rd  STREET,  NEW  YORK,  ^ 


BROWNIE’S  TRIUMPH 


A Novel. 


BY  MRS.  GEORGIE  SHELDON. 


But  lovers  an  essence  of  the  sonl, 

Which  sinks  not  wilk  this  chain  of 
Which  throbs  beyond  the  chill  control 
Of  withering  pain  or  pale  decay. 

Thomas  Moom* 


NEW  YORK; 

C.  JV.  Dillingham,  Publisher^ 

Successor  to  G.  W.  Carleton  & Co. 

LONDON  : S.  LOW,  SON  & CO. 
3MPCCCLXXXVIL 


Snter^d  according  to  Act  of  Congrecs,  in  the  year  ISSl^ 
By  Street  & Smith, 

in  the  Office  of  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington 


j^BlainCIS  S. 
FRANCIS  S. 


STREET,^ 
SMITH,  > 


Proprietore  cmd  P%dfHsh§r$ 


OP  THE 

NEW  YORK  WEEKLY, 

Tam  [JBADINO  Story  amd  Sketch  Pafbr  ov  im  ▲Mr 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER.  TAG^ 

I. — An  Encounter - 9 

II. — Brownie’s  Thoughts 20 

m. — The  Aunt’s  Story 27 

IV. — The  Legacy  of  Jewels 36 

V.— Laying  Down  Life’s  Burden 49 

VI.  — Staked  and  Lost 5^ 

VII.  —Love  Had  Conquered  Pride • 70 

VIIL— Earning  Her  Own  Living... 79 

IX. — An  Adventure 93 

X. — Change  of  Occupation 102 

XI. — Brownie  at  the  Coolidge  Mansion 114 

XII. — Adrian  Dredmond 125 

XIII. — Dressing  for  the  Opera 134 

XIV. — A Scene 146 

XV. — Isabel’s  Discovery ......  157 

XVI.  — A Terrible  Accusation.. 167 

XVII.  — Declaration  of  Love 185 

XVIII.— Jealousy 196 

XIX. — An  Unsucccssful  Search 206 

XXf—A  Startling  Racognition 31S 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER.  PAGE. 

XXL — That  Voice! 230 

XXIL — Chickens  Come  Home  to  Roost!’* 241 

XXIII. — A Leap  for  Life 253 

XXIV. — Taken  by  Storm 264 

XXV. — Retrospective 275 

XXVI.— A Little  Matter  of  Business 286 

XXVII. — “And  You  Will  Be  My  Wife?” 297 

XXVIII. --“She  Is  Not  Beneath  Me!” 303 

XXIX.— “How  Came  You  Here?” 317 

XXX. — Entrapped 327 

XXXI.— “I  Will  Dare  Anything!” 338 

XXXII.— Brownie’s  Strange  Visitor 352 

XXXIII.— Herbert  Randal 367 

XXXIV.— Brownie  Liberated 377 

XXXV. — Consternation  of  the  Coolidges 383 

XXXVI.— Lady  Dunforth’s  Visit 392 

XXXVII. — Brownie’s  Little  Charge 401 

XXX  Vni.  — Another  Revelation 412 

XXXIX.— The  Cynosure  of  All  Eyes. 420 

XL.— Burying  the  Hatchet * 429 

XLL— The  Impending  Storm  435 

XLII. — “ Where  is  My  Brother  ?”c ^ . . . : . c.  c . » . . . 449 

XLIII.— Would  He  Forgive  Her?” - 455 

XLIV,— Aspasia  Cooudge.. ♦••.‘•a. • 4^4 


BBOWNIE’S  TRIUMPH 


CHAPTER  I. 

AN  ENCOUNTER. 

^‘Brownie I Brownie  Douglas,  wait  a moment/' 

Time — three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  the  5th  of  Septem- 
ber, 1876. 

Place — vestibule  of  the  Memorial  Hall,  at  the  ‘‘World's  Cen^ 
tennial  Exposition,"  Philadelphia,  when  all  the  world  did  litc-» 
rally  flock  to  behold  the  great  sights  in  that  cify  of  brotherly 
love. 

The  speaker  of  the  above  sentence  wa«  a young  lady  of  about 
twenty,  tall,  slender,  and  of  aristocratic  bearing. 

The  person  addressed  was  a bright  little  fairy,  who  looked 
not  over  sixteen,  yet  who  in  reality  was  two  years  older. 

She  had  been  resting  and  looking  at  that  massive  statue  of 
Washington  which  stands  so  proudly  prominent  there  in  the 
spacious  vestibule — that  grand  entrance  to  a glorious  world  of 
art,  with  its  royal  arches  and  colossal  pillars  with  their  elegant 
carvings ; its  medallioned  roof,  its  mosaic  floor,  and  bewilder- 


1( 


AN  ENCOUNTBk, 


ing  passages,  replete  with  all  the  art  and  beautj  which  the  heart 
or  ingenuity  of  man  could  suggest. 

She  turned  quickly  toward  the  aristocratic-looking  lady  who 
had  spoken. 

"^What  is  it,  Aspasia.?  I have  been  waiting  for  you.  Where 
h2.ytyou  been?''  she  asked,  brightly. 

'^Oh,  this  is  you,  then?  I thought  that  young  lady  just 
passing  out  was  you — these  linen  dusters  deceive  one  so. " 

^'You  look  heated  and  weary;  will  you  not  sit  down  and 
rest?"  asked  Brownie  Douglas,  regarding  the  flushed  face  of  her 
friend  with  an  amused  look  in  her  dark,  bright  eyes. 

She  appeared  so  comically  distressed. 

‘‘No,  I do  not  care  to  sit  down;  but  you  do  rush  round  so 
from  one  thing  to  another,  that  I cannot  keep  you  in  sight. 
I’ve  lost  my  handkerchief,  one  of  my  gloves  won't  stay  but- 
toned, my  train  will  get  down  under  my  feet,  and  my  fan  and 
parasol  are  a nuisance, " was  the  fretful  reply. 

The  young  damsel  could  not  have  been  more  despairing  if 
she  had  had  a half  dozen  children  to  look  after,  and  every  one 
had  been  lost  in  the  labyrinth  of  passages. 

“What  a catalogue  of  griefs,  Aspasia,"  laughed  Miae  Doug- 
las, musically;  then  she  added,  kindly:  “Here,  I will  button 
the  refractory  glove ; there,  that  will  stay,  I know.  Now  for  the 
fan,  let  me  have  it ; my  pocket  in  my  underskirt  is  deep,  and  it 
will  be  perfectly  safe.  Here  is  a handkerchief  to  relieve  your 
present  necessities.  I always  carry  an  extra  one  in  case  of  an 
emergency.  Now  I will  take  your  parasol,  and  that  will  leave 
you  free  to  manage  the  troublesome  train. " 

“Thank  you;  you  always  manage  everything  so  nicely,  and 


AN  ENCOUNTER. 


1 1 

you  never  seem  to  be  troubled  with  anything.  How  does  it 
happen,  I wonder.?^’'  asked  Miss  Aspasia,  heaving  a sigh  of  re- 
lief at  being  once  more  set  right  and  relieved  of  her  burdens. 

^Hdl  tell  you,  Asia;  I don't  believe  in  too  many  ‘fixings' 
when  one  is  out  to  enjoy  one's  seif.  I abominate  a train  except 
in  a drawing-room,  and  I should  never  see  anything  if  I had 
so  many  things  on  me  to  look  after  as  you  have,"  replied  the 
young  girl,  with  a roguish  glance  over  her  companion's  elabo^ 
rate  toilet. 

And  sure  enough  there  was  never  a greater  contrast  than  be- 
tween those  two  young  ladies. 

One  tall,  fair,  and  languid,  and  dressed  in  the  height  of  fash- 
ion; covered  with  jewels,  laces,  flowers,  and  furbelows,  not  to 
mention  a three-quarters-of-a-yard  train,  which,  with  the  other 
fixings  referred  to,  demanded  so  much  of  her  attention,  that 
she  could  enjoy  nothing  of  the  wonders  and  beauties  around 
her. 

The  other,  petite  and  dainty;  her  glossy  brown  hair  simply 
coiled  at  the  back  of  her  small  head,  which  was  crowned  with  a 
hat  of  dark  straw,  trimmed  with  a wreath  of  scarlet  berries  and 
shining  dark  green  leaves.  Her  half-fitting  linen  ulster  pro- 
tected, v/hile  it  did  not  wholly  conceal  her  rich  though  simple 
dress  of  black  silk,  which  just  cleared  the  floor,  and  did  not 
hide  the  “two  mites  of  feet, " encased  in  their  tiny  French  boots. 
A pair  of  gray  silk  gloves  covered  her  little  hands,  and  a sim- 
ple linen  collar  was  fastened  at  her  delicate  throat  by  a richly- 
carved  spray  of  coral,  her  only  visible  ornament. 

She  was  quick  and  graceful  in  her  movements.  Her  bright, 
restless  brown  eyes  took  in  everything  about  her  at  a glance. 


12 


AN  ENCOUNTER. 


and  were  full  of  fun  and  merriment,  while  the  glow  •f  perfect 
health  shone  on  either  cheek  and  upon  her  ruby  lips. 

"‘Are  you  ready  to  go  on  now.?''  she  asked  her  friend,  as  she 
saw  the  frown  upon  her  brow  fade  out,  at  being  once  more  set 
in  moving  order. 

^^Yes;  and  you  are  a jewel,  Brownie.  There  ! Oh,  dear 

Miss  Douglas,  who  was  about  moving  on,  turned  again  at 
this  cry  of  woe,  and  immediately  a ripple  of  musical,  irrepressi- 
ble laughter  broke  from  her  scarlet  lips. 

There  stood  her  friend  in  the  act  of  gathering  up  her  volume 
inoLis  train,  while  directly  behind  her  stood  an  unmistakable 
countryman,  with  one  huge  foot  planted  firmly  upon  the  ruf- 
fles and  plaitings  of  the  beautiful  skirt,  securely  pinning  it  to 
the  floor,  and  making  it  optional  with  Miss  Aspasia,  either  to 
go  on  and  leave  behind  her  that  (to  her)  very  important  appen- 
dage, or  wait  until  that  herculean  member  should  be  removed. 

The  luckless,  though  innocent  cause  of  this  uncomfortable 
state  of  affairs,  was  gazing  with  wide  eyes,  and  open  mouth,  at 
the  figure  of  an  Indian  upon  the  trail  opposite  him,  and  wholly 
unconscious  of  the  strong  attachment  which  bound  him  to  the 
fashionable  belle. 

‘'I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Miss  Douglas,  hastening  to  the 
rescue,  ''but  will  you  please  lift  your  foot?" 

"Eh  ? What?  Oh,  ya-as,"  ejaculated  the  clumsy,  but  good- 
natured  fellow,  who  was  instantly  frightened  at  finding  himself 
growing  in  such  a garden  of  finery ; and  he  immediately  stum- 
bled off,  as  awkwardly  as  he  had  blundered  on,  while  Miss 
Aspasia  Huntington  was  once  more  at  liberty. 

"I  declare,  miss,"  apologized  the  six-footer,  blushing  to  the 


AlSt  ENCOUNTER. 


n 

roots  of  his  hair,  but  I never  saw  so  many  wimmen  a losin 
their  clo's  off  before.  I hain’t  ben  nowhere  to-day  but  some- 
body’s dress  has  ben  tumblin'  off  on  'em,  and  I’ve  stepped 
on't." 

He  moved  a step  or  two  away,  still  looking  ruefully  an4 
apologetically  at  Miss  Huntington ; then  he  added,  a t^dnkle 
of  fun  gleaming  in  his  eyes  : 

‘‘I  sh’d  hev  a fit  if  'twur  me,  and  I’m  tamal  glad  I wur  born 
to  a pair  o'  breeches. " 

^iss  Huntington  colored  angrily,  and  murmured  something 
about  '^such  insufferable  insolence,”  whereupon  the  irrepressi- 
ble countryman  offered  a piece  of  friendly  advice. 

‘'Grandm’th’r 'd  tell  ye  to  sew  it  on  stronger  to  the  bindin' — . 
put  on  a button  and  make  a hutton-hoU,  That’s  her  way,  and  i 
don’t  believe  she  ever  lost  her  petticoat  in  her  life,  ” 

Having  delivered  himself  of  these  pithy  remarks,  he  moved 
away,  lifting  up  and  setting  down  his  huge  feet  cautiously,  and 
keeping  constant  watch  over  them  lest  some  other  unfortunate 
female  should  be  ‘‘losin’  her  clo’s  off,”  and  he  step  on  them. 

At  this  instant  a suppressed  laugh  greeted  Miss  Brownie’s  ear. 
Looking  up,  she  caught  two  pairs  of  mirth-gleaming  eyes  fixed 
upon  herself  and  her  unfortunate  companion. 

Two  young  men  were  standing  near,  and  had  been  amused 
witnesses  of  the  comical  scene  just  described. 

On  being  discovered,  one  of  them  lifted  his  hat  and  bowed 
low  to  Miss  Douglas,  who  flushed  a rosy  red  as  she  returned  it, 
and  who  would  instantly  have  burst  into  gleeful  laughter  had  it 
not  been  for  doing  violence  to  her  companion's  feelings. 

As  it  was,  however,  she  linked  her  arm  in  Miss  Huntington's 


14 


AN  ENCOUNTER, 

and  turned  quickly  away,  but  not  before  she  had  caught  the 
look  of  unmistakable  admiration  with  which  the  other  gentle" 
man  regarded  her. 

“Who  is  she?’^  he  asked  eagerly  of  his  companion,  after  he 
had  watched  her  out  of  sight 

“That  full-rigged  craft,  with  all  her  sail  crowded  on,  is  Miss 
Aspasia  Huntington,  a Baltimore  belle  and  heiress 

“And  the  other?’"  interrupted  the  first  speaker,  somewhat 
impatiently. 

He  cared  nothing  for  that  doll  with  her  finery. 

“Is — hold  on  to  your  ears,  my  boy — Miss  Mehetabel  Doug- 
las, of  Philadelphia,”  was  the  startling  announcement,  accom- 
panied with  a smile  of  amusement 

“Thunder !” 

“’Tis  rather  an  imposing  cognomen  for  such  a dainty  piece 
of  flesh  and  blood,  I admit” 

“Her  parents  ought  to  be  choked  for  giving  her  such  a 
name.” 

“They  are  already  defunct,  and,  I believe,  in  no  way  respon- 
sible for  the  obnoxious  appellation.” 

“ How  so  ?” 

‘ ‘ Her  father  died  before  she  was  born,  and  her  mother  at  her 
birth ; so  the  poor  little  waif  fell  to  the  tender  mercies  of  -a 
maiden  great-aunt  on  her  father’s  side,  who  immediately  had 
her  christened  for  herself,  and  proceeded  forthwith  to  bring  her 
up,  after  her  own  ideas,  to  inherit  her  million  of  money.  ” 

“But  the  other  one  called  her  Brownie?” 

“Yes;  no  one  could  'Mehetabel’  that  sprite.  Her  nurse 


AN  ENCOUNTER. 


IS 

called  her  Brownie  from  the  first,  on  account  of  her  eyes,  hair, 
and  skin,  for  she  was  very  dark  as  a child. '' 

‘‘Showed  her  good  taste — the  name  just  suits  her,''  muttered 
the  first  speaker,  absently. 

“The  little  elf  liked  the  pet  name  so  well  herself  that  she , 
would  never  allow  any  one  to  call  her  anything  else.  I believe 
since  she  has  grown  up  her  schoolmates  and  a few  of  her  gen- 
tlemen acquaintances,  who  do  not  feel  familiar  enough  to  ad- 
dress her  so  fi-eely,  shorten  the  obnoxious  old  maid  title  into 
‘Meta.'" 

“You  seem  to  know  all  about  her." 

“Yes,  my  sisters  are  intimate  with,  and  very  fond  of  her. 
As  for  myself,  I always  thought  her  a bewitching  little  fairy." 

“She  has  the  sweetest  and  brightest  face  in  the  world,"  was 
the  enthusiastic  reply. 

“Ah,  ha!  Hard  hit,  aren't  you,  Dredmond  ?" 

“So  hard  that  I should  like  another  of  the  same  kind.  Will 
fou  introduce  me?” 

“Certainly,  the  first  opportunity." 

“You  say  the  old  aunt  is  rich ?” 

‘ ‘ Imm^isely,  and  very  aristocratic,  too. " 

“Aristocratic,  is  she?  The  little  one  herself  seems  to  be 
simple  enough  ; she  put  on  no  aii*s.  How  civilly  she  spoke  to 
that  countryman." 

“Oh,  yes  ; she  treats  the  rich  and  the  poor  alike.  She  ha* 
been  very  kind  to  some  poor  working  girls  whom  I know,  and 
yet  she  has  a thus-far-and-no-farther  way  with  her,  when  the 
occasion  requires,  which  even  j/our  high  blood  could  not  over- 
come." 


AN  ENCOUNTER, 


i6 

“There's  fun  in  her,  though;  how  her  bright  face  dimpled 
and  gleamed  when  that  clown  stood  ballast  for  Miss  Hunting- 
ton.  ” 

“Ha,  ha!  I'd  give  a five-dollar  note  for  a picture  of  that 
scene  to  show  my  sisters.  They  are  forever  being  pulled  up 
short  in  their  career  by  having  their  trains  stepped  on  ; and  I'd 
like  them  to  see  how  ridiculous  they  look,"  replied  Gordon, 
with  twinkling  eyes. 

“Evidently  the  fellow  has  not  been  accustomed  to  such  elon- 
gations, since  he  thought  the  /wimmin  were  all  losin'  their 
clo's  off,"'  said  Dredmond,  with  a chuckle* 

“No;  but  there  was  a good  deal  of  sense  in  what  he  told 
them  about  the  button  and  button-hole  arrangement." 

“Egad!  there  was." 

“And  as  to  being  ‘born  to  a pair  o'  breeches,'  I can  sympa^ 
thize  fully  with  him  there — eh,  Dredmond  ?" 

“Yes,  indeed.  Douglas,  I believe,  was  the  name  of  the  lit- 
tle one,  was  it  not?" 

“Yes." 

“It  is  a good  one  with  us." 

“A  good  one  ! I guess  it  is,  my  boy.  Why,  Miss  Mehet- 
abel,  the  elder,  claims  to  be  a direct  descendant  from  the  Scot- 
tish nobility." 

“Aha!  is  that  so?" 

“Yes,  indeed;  but  I warn  you  if  you  go  there  not  to  bring 
up  the  subject  of  genealogy,  for  once  started  upon  that  topic, 
there  is  no  whoa  until  she  brings  up  with  an  ancient  queen. " 

“Pshaw!  you  are  talking  gammon  now,"  returned  theyoui^ 
man,  impatiently. 


AN  ENCOUNTER. 


17 


Indeed  I am  not.  I have  seen  the  genealogical  tree,  and 
I assure  you  she  has  as  good  blood  flowing  in  her  veins  slsj^ou 
have,  notwithstanding  she  has  been  an  inhabitant  of  plebeian 
America  for  nearly  half  a century.” 

^‘Well,  well,  Gordon,  we  won't  quarrel  labout  their  ancestry, 
there  is  beauty  enough  there,  let  alone  blue  blood.” 

‘‘Yes.  But  I think  we  have  discussed  the  subject  sufficient** 
4y.  Shall  we  go  over  to  Machinery  Hall  now  ?” 

“Anywhere  you  choose  ; but  stop  ! What  have  we  here?” 

Adrian  Dredmond  stooped  and  picked  up  the  shining  some- 
thing upon  which  he  had  almost  stepped  as  they  turned  to 
leave  the  place. 

It  proved  to  be  a costly  cuflf-button  of  black  enamel  and  gold. 
Upon  the  face  of  it  was  a large  D.,  studded  with  brilliants, 
while  a tiny  row  of  the  same  precious  stones  was  set  around  the 
edge. 

Turning  it  over,  the  young  man  discovered  the  woFd 
“Brownie”  engraven  in  finest  letters  on  the  back. 

“‘Ye  gods  and  little  fishes,'  Gordon!  I've  found  a treas- 
ure !”  and  he  held  it  up  to  view. 

“Egad  I that  is  so.  That  must  have  cost  a cool  hundred,^ 
exclaimed  Gordon,  examining  it  critically,  then  added  : “You 
are  in  luck,  my  boy.  It  is  a good  omen  to  find  something  be- 
longing to  one  whom  you  admire.  ” 

“Is  nr 

“Yes  ; but  I suppose  torture  would  not  compel  you  to  give 
it  up  until  you  can  put  it  into  the  owner's  own  little  hands,” 
and  the  young  man  laughed. 


i8 


AN  ENCOUNTER, 


''You  are  right  for  once/'  returned  Dredmond,  lightly, 
although  with  heightened  color. 

" It  will  give  me  a good  excuse  for  seeking  an  introduc- 
tion," he  added,  as  he  carefully  tucked  the  button  into  his  vest 
pocket. 

Again  Gordon  laughed. 

‘ ' Mark  my  words,  Dredmond,  something  unusual  will  come 
of  your  finding  that  trinket." 

"What  makes  you  think  so 

"I  don't  know — it  is  a sudden  impression,  perhaps,  but  I 
believe  it  will  have  an  influence  on  your  future." 

"You  are  superstitious,"  replied  Dredmond,  with  a little 
scornful  curl  of  his  handsome  lips.  . 

"If  it  should  result  in  your  carrying  Miss  Brownie  Douglas 
off  to  the  old  country  with  you,  there  would  be  a buzzing  about 
your  ears,  I can  tell  you  ; for  not  a few  have  their  eye  fixed 
already  upon  the  dainty  elf  with  her  golden  pile  in  prospect. " 

"Are  you  among  the  number,  Gordon.?"  asked  his  friend, 
with  a keen  glance  at  the  young  man. 

"Not  I,  my  boy;  my  star  shines  from  another  quarter, 
Gordon  replied,  laughingly,  though  growing  red  in  the  fece 
with  the  acknowledgement 

' ' I think  then,  my  friend,  you  are  getting  up  a little  romance 
upon  your  own  account,  and  without  much  of  a foundation  to 
begin  with.  If  you  were  interested  I should  not  wonder,  but 
as  there  is  no  jealousy  in  the  matter  it  seems  a little  singular 
that  you  should  jump  at  conclusions  thus.  I fear,  Gordon, 
I shall  have  to  set  you  down  as  a masculine  match-maker." 

"Call  me  what  you  like,  but  I confess  that  I think  yon  and 


AN  ENCOUNTER, 


I# 

tkat  little  fairy  would  suit  each  other  wonderfully  well.  She  is 

just  the  right  kind  of  a little  woman  to  make  a '' 

‘'Hush,  my  boy;  do  not  reveal  any  secrets  here,""  inter- 
rupted Adrian  Dredmond,  looking  anxiously  around. 

"Well,  well,  come  on  then  to  Machinery  Hall ; but,  Dred- 
mond, I think  you  are  over  modest  about  some  matters."' 

"It  is  a failing  which  will  never  harm  anybody,"  the  young 
man  replied,  smiling  ; then  linking  arms  in  a friendly  way  with 
his  companion,  they  wended  their  way  to  view  that  wonder  of 
modern  achievements,  the  Corliss  engine,  and  those  countless 
«ther  inventions  of  the  human  brain. 


20 


BROWNIE^  S TMOlBSim, 


CHAPTER  IL 

BROWNIES  THOUGHTS. 

Fair  reader,  do  not  elevate  your  aristocratic  proboscis,  nor 
curl  your  pretty  lips  in  scorn,  at  the  homely  name  of  my  hero- 
ine, for  Mehetabel  Douglas  she  is,  and  Mehetabel  she  must  re- 
main until  the  end  of  the  chapter,  although  in  all  probability 
her  final  cognomen  will  emerge  into  some  other  before  we  get 
through  with  her.  If  the  appellation  is  too  offensive,  you  are 
privileged  to  soften  it  down  to  Miss  Meta,  as  her  gentlemen  ac- 
quaintances do,  and  she  will  never  refuse  to  answer  to  the 
name  of  Brownie,  which,  on  the  whole,  suits  her  better  than 
anything  else. 

In  a luxurious  apartment  of  a modern  house  on  Chestnut 
street,  two  hours  after  the  incidents  related  in  our  first  chapter. 
Miss  Mehetabel  Douglas,  the  senior,  might  have  been  seen  sit- 
ting in  a comfortable  easy-^^hair,  while  Brownie  sat  upon  an  ot- 
toman at  her  feet 

The  former  was  a worn  sin  of  about  sixty-five  years  of  age, 
with  a delicate,  high-bred  surrounded  by  bands  of  soft,  sil- 
very hair.  She  had  dark-gray  eyes,  which  always  had  a look 
in  them  as  of  some  hop>e  suddenly  crushed  out  of  her  life,  while 
a patient,  gentle  expressio*^  Sovered  about  her  thin,  aristocratic 
lips. 


BROWNIE^  S THOUGHTS, 


21 


Brownie  had  just  been  reading  to  her  from ' ^ Patience  Strong's 
Outings, " and  now  they  were  talking  it  over  together. 

‘‘She  is  what  I call  a lovely  old  maid,  and — you're  another, 
aujatie, " Brownie  said,  with  a fond  glance  up  into  the  dear  old 
lady's  face. 

“You  always  have  something  sweet  to  say  to  me,  dear," 
Miss  Douglas  replied,  laying  her  hand  softly  upon  the  glossy 
head. 

Yet  the  smile  on  her  lips  grew  suddenly  tremulous  and  sad, 
as  some  far-away  memory  seemed  for  the  instant  to  return  to 
her. 

“Why  is  it,  I wonder,"  pursued  Brownie,  reflectively,  ‘‘that 
so  much  sport  is  made  of  old  maids  ?" 

“I  suppose  because  the  theory  prevails,  that  every  old  maid 
has  failed  to  catch  a husband,  and  is  therefore  a fit  subject  for 
ridicule,"  Miss  Mehetabel  returned,  a little  gleam  of  amuse- 
ment lighting  up  her  sad  eyes. 

“What  an  absurd  idea!"  exclaimed  the  young  girl,  the  bright 
color  flaming  into  her  cheeks,  her  eyes  sparkling  with  indigna- 
tion, and  making  her  look  like  some  gorgeous  tropical  flower 
in  that  beautiful  room.  “Why,"  she  added,  “Patience  Strong 
would  have  made  such  a lovely  wife  for  some  good,  noble  man  ; 
and  I don't  believe  but  that  there  were  plenty  who  wanted  her. 
How  beautiful  she  would  have  made  a home,  and  how  she 
would  have  helped  her  husband,  with  her  deep,  strong,  sensi- 
ble way  of  looking  uppn  life ! I wish  everybody  wouM  read 
her  ‘Outings,'  and  try  and  profit  by  what  they  would  Uarn 
from  it." 


BROWNIE^  S THOUGHTS. 


^2 


"‘Yes,  it  is  beautifully  written,  and  would  do  any  one 
good/'  answered  Miss  Douglas. 

I sometimes  think  the  world  is  all  going  wrong,"  contin- 
ued Brownie,  with  an  expression  of  perplexity  in  her  bright 
eyes. 

‘'Why  so,  dear?" 

“Here  I know  any  number  of  people,  who  are  no  more  fit 
to  be  wives  and  mothers  than  so  many  children  ; and  yet  every 
one  has  managed  to  secure  a husband,  while  there  are  plenty 
f>f  ‘old  maids'  in  the  world,  so  patiently  living  out  their  lonely 
iives,  who  would  make  such  strong,  helpful  wives,  such  wise 
and  tender  mothers. " 

“You  ought  to  write  a book  upon  the  subject.  Brownie, 
and  set  the  world  right,"  and  Miss  Mehetabel  laughed  outright 
now. 

“ You're  laughing  at  me,  auntie,  but  I think  it  is  dreadful — 
so  many  precious,  tender  little  souls  coming  into  the  world  to 
be  neglected  by  their  mothers ; and  so  many  true,  noble  hus- 
bands plodding  on  their  lonely  way,  while  their  wives  fritter 
away  their  time  on  fashion  and  fashionable  pleasures." 

“But,  dear,  do  you  suppose  the  fault  is  all  in  the  women?" 
asked  the  old  lady,  to  draw  her  out  still  further,  and  tenderly 
scanning  the  flushed,  earnest  face. 

“Perhaps  not,  auntie.  I don't  know  much  about  the  men 
anyway,  but  I do  believe  if  the  women  were  less  selfish  and 
more  gentle  and  loving,  there  would  be  fewer  bad  men  in  the 
world." 

“That  is  true,  dear,  in  one  sense — selfish  motiiers  make  self* 
jfih  children,  and  so  the  world  goes  on. " 


BROWNIE'S  THOUGHTS, 


n 


•‘Now,  auntie,  fou  would  have  made  such  a splendid  wife  for 
Some  good  man  ; and  you  ought  to  have  had  at  least  a dozen 
children.  What  a charming  household  it  would  have  been, 
for  you  would  have  governed  so  wisely  and  so  well.  I don't 
believe  nature  ever  intended  you  for  an  old  maid. 

A spasm  of  pain  contracted  the  old  lady’s  brow,  but  she  re- 
plied, quietly  : 

‘ ^ Perhaps  not ; yet  there  is,  doubtless,  some  wise  reason  for  it. 
What  would  have  become  of  you,  dear,  if  I had  had  a large 
femiiy  of  my  own  ?” 

‘'Oh,  I should  have  only  made  up  the  baker's  dozen,  and  it 
seems  such  a pity  that  so  much  native  talent  should  all  be  lav- 
ished upon  one  poor  little  waif  like  me,”  Brownie  said,  with  a 
little  laugh. 

"If  I had  had  the  number  you  assign  me,  dear,  and  they 
had  all  proved  the  blessing  to  me  that  you  have  been,  I fea^  it 
would  have  been  too  much  happiness  for  one  human  being  ; 
and  yet 

The  old  lady  did  not  conclude  her  sentence,  but  heaved  a 
deep  sigh,  while  unshed  tears  stood  in  her  beautiful  eyes. 

"Auntie,  why  were  you  an  old  maid  I don’t  understand 
it — it  must  have  been  no  one’s  fault  but  your  own.” 

"My  own  fault.  Brownie!  You  don’t  know— child,  you 
don’t  know,”  cried  Miss  Mehetabel,  sharply,  while  a deep,  dry 
sob,  that  was  almost  a groan,  burst  from  her  lips. 

Brownie  was  startled  at  her  deep  emotion.  She  had  spoken 
lightly,  and  with  no  thought  that  she  was  probing  an  old 
wound. 

She  sprang  up  quickly,  and,  seeing  the  feir  old  fece  above 


24 


BROWNIE'S  THOUGHTS, 


her  almost  convulsed  with  agony,  she  twined  her  arms  about 
her  neck,  saying,  remorsefully  : 

''Auntie,  dear,  forgive  me!  Have  I touched  sonae  hidden 
spring  of  sorrow  ? I would  not  have  wounded  you  so  for  the 
world." 

She  laid  the  aged  face  upon  her  bosom,  and  smoothed  the 
silvery  hair  with  a tender  hand,  while  her  bright,  sweet  face 
grew  clouded  and  anxious. 

There  was  an  unbroken  silence  in  that  room  for  many  min- 
utes. 

Miss  Mehetabel  was  too  agitated  to  speak,  and  struggled  hard 
to  regain  her  self-control,  and  when  at  length  she  had  in  a 
measure  succeeded,  she  became  absorbed  in  some  engrossing 
memory  or  reflections,  while  the  loving  girl  bending  over  her 
would  not  disturb  her,  lest  the  wild  burst  of  sorrow  should  re- 
turn. 

At  last  the  old  lady  looked  up  into  her  face  with  a mournful 
smile,  and  her  aged  lips  trembled  with  the  question  : 

"Dear  child,  would  you  like  to  read  a sad  page  in  an  old 
woman's  history 

" No,  dear  auntie,  do  not  talk  of  anything  that  gives  you  pain. 
Forgive  me  for  speaking  in  a way  that  should  recall  anything  to 
distress  you,"  said  the  young  girl,  sadly. 

"Yon  did  not  think  to  pain  me,  and  I am  glad  now  that  the 
conversation  has  taken  this  turn,  for  I would  like  you  to  know 
something  of  what  my  past  has  been. " 

' ‘ Let  us  wait  until  some  other  time — you  are  tired  and  ought 
to  rest  now,"  pleaded  Brownie,  recoiling  from  a revelation  which 
she  believed  would  be  painful 


BRO  WNIE  ’6*  THOUGHTS, 


25 


‘‘No,  Brownie,  something  prompts  me  to  tell  you  now,  and 
I will  obey  the  call.  The  book  of  my  life  is  almost  written, 
love,  and  it  will  do  me  no  harm  to  review  it  once  more  before 
it  is  closed  forever.  I have  borne  my  sorrow  alone  for  forty-five 
years,  and  it  seems  as  if  it  would  do  me  good  to  breathe  it  to 
some  one  who  would  give  me  sympathy,  and  remember  it  ten- 
derly when  I am  gone.'' 

Brownie's  little  hand  fluttered  dov/n  upon  Miss  Mehetabel's 
lips,  and  the  tears  sprang  to  her  eyes. 

She  could  not  bear  to  hear  her  talk  thus. 

“Where  is  Aspasia.?^"  the  old  lady  asked,  presently. 

“She  is  in  her  room.  She  had  so  much  to  carry  around  to- 
day at  the  exposition  that  she  is  wearied  out,  and  is  taking  a 
nap  to  refresh  herself,"  and  Brownie  laughed  at  the  remem- 
brance of  Miss  Huntington's  misfortunes. 

“She  does  rig  herself  out  abominably.  I am  glad  you  are 
more  simple  in  your  taste,  my  dear  ; you  will  get  along  through 
the  world  more  comfortably  and  happily  for  it. " 

“I  suppose  Aspasia  thinks  there  is  no  other  way  by  which 
she  can  show  her  wealth,  auntie. " 

“Nonsense,  child;  the  true  lady,  accustomed  to  luxury, 
will  be  recognized  anywhere  in  the  plainest  dress ; and  you, 
d^ar — though  I say  it  myself — can  better  afford  to  make  a fash- 
ion-figure of  yourself  than  Aspasia  Huntington,  notwithstand- 
ing she  is  called  an  heiress,"  and  Miss  Mehetabel's  eye  lighted 
with  a gleam  of  pride  at  the  announcement. 

“But  I do  not  care  for  fashion  or  style  as  she  does,  auntie  ; 
besides,  I think  it  a foolish  way  of  spending  money,"  Brownie 
answered,  thoughtfully. 


26 


BRO  WNTE  THOUGHTS, 


shall  have  no  fear  that  my  fortune  will  be  wasted  ; you 
will  be  very  rich,  Brownie,  when  I am  gone.  I have  made  my 
will,  and  you  are  to  have  everything. 

Ah  ! had  she  but  known  the  legacy  which  she  would  leave  the 
young  girl,  she  would  not  have  spoken  so  confidently  of  the 
future. 

‘ ^ Let  us  not  talk  about  it,  auntie  ; I don't  like  you  to  speak 
about  going  away  from  me.  I should  be  desolate  without  you, 
if  I had  ever  so  much  money,"  and  the  bright  face  wore  a look 
%f  pain. 

Miss  Douglas  drew  the  shining  head  down  to  her,  and 
kissed  the  sweet  lips. 

'‘Well,  well,  so  be  it,  though  it  must  come  sootier  or  later; 

/ 

but  we  will  talk  no  more  of  it  now.  You  are  very  precious  to 
me,  darling,  and  your  love  has  been  the  only  brightness  of  my 
life  for  the  past  eighteen  years, " she  said,  softly.  ' ' Go  lock 
the  door,"  she  added,  after  a moment,  "so  that  we  may 
be  uninterrupted ; then  draw  a chair  beside  me,  and  I'll  tell 
you  how  I came  to  be  an  old  maid.  It  may  be  a lesson  that 
will  do  you  good. " 

Brownie  glided  softly  to  the  door  and  turned  the  key.  Then 
she  drew  a low  rocker  and  seated  herself  beside  Miss  Douglas, 
while  a feeling  of  solemnity  took  possession  of  her,  as  she  real- 
ized that  a hidden  page  of  life  was  about  to  be  turned  back  for 
ber  to  read. 


THE  AUNT'S  STORY. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  aunt's  story. 

‘‘You  mnow  irfeo  the  Douglases  are?’'  began  Miss  Meheta* 
bel,  bracing  hemlf  up,  with  a look  of  pride. 

“Oh,  yes;  you  have  always  given  me  to  understand  that 
they  belonged  to  a very  honorable  race. " 

“An  honorable  race  indeed  ! Why,  child,  they  are  the  de- 
scendants of  a queen  I — a Scottish  queen  ! Lady  Margaret 
Douglas  was  the  daughter  of  Queen  Margaret  Tudor,  and  back 
to  her  we  can  trace  our  ancestry.  Never  forget  it,  child — never 
forget  that  you  are  descended  in  a direct  line  from  the  royalty 
of  Scotland." 

One  could  judge  something  of  what  Miss  Douglas  had  been  in 
youth,  as  she  sat  there  inspired  with  the  pride  of  her  race — her 
form  drawn  proudly  erect,  her  eyes  glowing  with  the  fire  of 
twenty  rather  than  sixty,  and  the  flush  of  conscious  dignity 
upon  her  fair  old  face.  Her  delicate,  flexible  features  were  all 
lighted  up  with  the  remembrance  of  her  youthful  days,  and  of 
former  glory,  when  in  the  old  country  she  was  known  and  ac- 
knowledged as  the  “descendant  of  a queen P' 

She  must  have  been  very  stately  and  very  beautiful ! 

Brownie  did  not  reply  to  her  last  remark,  for  it  was  a hobby 
with  her  proud  kinswoman,  and  once  thoroughly  started  on  the 


28 


THE  AUNT'S  STORY. 


subject,  she  knew  the  family  tree  would  have  to  be  brought 
out,  and  the  wearisome  task  of  tracing  the  Douglas  race  for 
three  long  centuries  would  have  to  be  rehearsed.  So  she  wisely 
held  her  peace. 

‘"Yes,  the  descendant  of  a queen!''  she  repeated;  '‘and 
many  of  our  ancestors  intermarried  with  the  English  nobility, 
so  that  to-day,  Brownie  Douglas,  there  runs  no  better  blood  in 
any  veins  than  in  yours  and  mine. 

"Before  I left  the  old  country,  dear,  I mingled  with  the 
proudest  circles  of  the  land.  I was  presented  at  court,  and  du- 
ring a brilliant  London  season  I was  introduced  to  the  young 
Lord  of  Dunforth,  son  of  the  Fifth  Lord  of  Firth. 

"His  first  name  was  Royal — they  called  him  Roy-^and  he 
was  rightly  named,  for  he  was  fit  to  be  a king  1 

"From  the  first  hour  of  our  meeting  we  loved  each  other, 
and  we  were  betrothed,  by  the  consent  and  approval  of  both  his 
friends  and  my  own,  after  an  acquaintance  of  six  months. " 

"You,  auntie,  betrothed  to  a real,  live  lord  1 How  roman- 
tic I"  exclaimed  Brownie,  excitedly,  and  deeply  interested  in 
the  event. 

"Yes,  a real,  live  lord,"  repeated  Miss  Dpuglas,  smiling; 
"but  then  lords  are  no  more  than  any  other  men,  excepting 
their  title.  Our  marriage  was  to  be  delayed  for  a year,  until 
Roy  should  complete  his  course  at  Oxford,  when  he  would 
come  in  possession  of  a fine  estate  in  Essex. 

"Brownie,  the  good  book  tells  us,  'Thou  shalt  have  no  other 
gods  but  Me ;'  but  I disobeyed  that  command.  I worshiped 
Royal,  Lord  of  Dunforth,  with  all  the  strength  of  my  nature—’ 
and  no  Douglas  ever  possessed  a weak  ©ne,  I can  tell  you. 


THE  AUNT'S  STORY. 


29 


'^We  exchanged  letters  frequently,  and  the  words  he  penned 
were  like  a feast  to  my  soul.  I have  them  now,  every  one, 
and  they  are  all  that  I have  left  of  the  love,  the  glorious  love, 
which  I once  fondly  hoped  would  brighten  ,n>.y  life  to  its  end.  ” 

The  old  lady  became  so  agitated  that  she  could  not  go  on,  as 
all  the  blighted  hopes  of  her  youth  eame  crowding  up  before 
her. 

She  bowed  her  white  head  upon  her  withered  hands,  her 
body  swayed  to  and  fro  hke  a c^'ckcn  reed,  while  great  tears 
coursed  their  way  ove^  her  pale  cheeks  and  dropped  between 
her  fingers.' 

Brownie  wept  in  fympathy^  and  with  her  dainty  handker- 
chief she  wiped  pearly  drops,  one  by  one,  as  they  fell. 

‘‘Don't  try  to  toll  me  any  more,  auntie,"  she  pleaded,  in 
distress,  fearing  that  the  excitement  would  make  the  old  lady 
sick. 

“Yes,  yes;  it  will  lighten  the  burden,  and  I shall  not  break 
down  again, " and  she  straightened  herself  resolutely. 

“ During  the  past  few  days  I have  been  living  over  all  those 
bright  days,  together  with  the  bitter  agony  that  follow^ed,  and 
Bay  heart  will  burst  unless  I relieve  it,"  she  added. 

‘ ‘ In  the  same  circle  in  which  we  moved,  there  was  a very 
handsome  girl,  by  the  of  Lady  Helen  Capel.  She  be- 

longed to  a very  wealthy  and  honorable  family,  and  it  was  said 
that  before  Lord  Dunforth  was  introduced  to  me  he  used  to 
pay  some  attention  to  her.  From  the  very  first  of  my  ac- 
quaintance with  him  she  evinced  an  intense  dislike  tow^ard  me. 

“Report  said  that  she  wanted  to  win  him  for  herself,  and  I 


THE  AUNT^S  STORY. 


30 

believe  in  my  heart  that  was  why  she  was  so  hauglity  and  dis^ 
agreeable  whenever  we  met. 

‘"Lord  Dnnforth  finished  his  course  at  Oxford  with  great 
honor  to  himself,  and  preparations  were  bugun  for  our  mar- 
riage, which  was  appointed  to  take  place  just  before  the  Christ- 
mas holidays. 

‘'One  evening  we  attended  a ball  given  by  Helen  Capei's 
aunt,  Lady  Ruxley. 

“On  entering  the  ball-room  I had  given  my  card  to  Roy  to 
fill  out  such  sets  as  he  wished  for  himself  and  then  as  others 
were  introduced  to  me,  they  put  their  names  in  the  blanks  that 
were  left. 

“Once  I noticed  Helen  Capel  in  earnest  conversation  with 
her  brother,  and  that  every  now  and  then  they  turned  their 
glance  upon  me.  Still,  at  the  moment,  I gave  the  circum- 
stance no  thought  Afterward  I knew  why  it  was. 

“Soon  after,  Charles  Capel  came  up  with  a handsome  but 
rather  rakish-looking  gentleman,  whom  he  introduced  as  the 
Count  de  Lussan.  Roy  had  left  me  for  a few  minutes  to  speak 
to  some  one  he  knew,  or  what  followed  never  would  have  hap- 
pened. 

“The  stranger  immediately  requested  the  pleasure  of  danc- 
ing with  me,  and  I innocently  assented,  never  for  a moment 
dreaming  that  any  one  would  be  preSeht  in  Lady  Ruxley 's  rooms 
with  whom  it  would  not  be  proper  for  me  to  dance. 

‘ ‘ I gave  him  my  card,  and  he  put  his  name  down  against  a 
waltz,  while  a peculiar  smile  curled  his  lips. 

“ Not  many  minutes  after  Helen  Capel  sauntered  toward  me, 
sat  down  by  my  side. 


THE  AUNT'S  STORY. 


31 


**¥ot  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  was  gracious  to  me,  and, 
bearing  her  no  ill-will,  I chatted  freely  with  her  for  quite  a 
while. 

^Have  you  danced  much?'  she  asked,  holding  out  her  hand 
for  my  cord.  i 

‘‘  ‘Several  times,*  I returned,  with  a smile,  as  I gave  it  up  to 

her. 

“She  ran  her  eyes  hastily  over  the  names,  and  I could  see 
her  scowl  every  time  she  read  Roy's.  Then  suddenly  looking 
up,  she  exclaimed,  aghast  : 

“‘Why,  Miss  Douglas,  will  his  lordship  permit  you  to  dance 
with  the  Count  de  Lussan  ?* 

“The  form  of  the  question  nettled  me  exceedingly,  and  I re- 
plied, somewhat  haughtily : 

“ ‘His  lordship  will  permit  me  to  dance  with  whomsoever  I 
choose,  MissCapel.* 

* ‘ She  laughed  a silvery,  wicked  laugh,  and  fixing  her  bold 
black  eyes  upon  me,  said,  in  an  exasperated  way  : 

“ ‘Pardon  me.  Miss  Douglas,  but  I do  not  believe  Lord  Dun- 
forth,  who  is  very  arbitrary  when  once  his  will  is  aroused,  will 
permit  his  betrothed  to  dance  with  any  one  who  bears  the 
reputation  which  Count  de  Lussan  bears.  * 

“‘But  your  own  brother  introduced  me  to  him,  Miss 
Capel  !*  I exclaimed,  indignantly. 

‘ ‘ ‘ Charles  ? Tm  astonished  at  him ; but  I presume  the  count 
asked  him,  and  he  did  not  like  to  refuse.  Why,  he  is  a noto- 
rious blackleg,  and  how  he  ever  gained  admission  here,  is  more 
than  I can  tell.' 

was  startled  at  this  intelligence,  but  I would  not  show  it 


32 


THE  AUNHS  STORY. 


before  her,  nor  yield  one  iota ; and  looking  up  at  that  moment, 
I saw  Lord  Dunforth  and  Count  de  Lussan  both  approaching 
me. 

‘"Miss  Capel  remained  by  my  side,  evidently  desirous  of  see- 
ing the  little  game  played  out. 

‘'The  count  reached  me  first,  and  bowing  low',  offered  me 
his  arm,  saying  his  turn  had  come. 

“I  glanced  nervously  into  my  lover's  face  as  I hesitatingly 
took  the  count's  arm,  fearing  that  all  was  not  right,  and  my 
heart  stood  still,  as  I noted  its  expression  of  blank  dismay  and 
stern  displeasure. 

“He  hastened  forward,  and  taking  my  card,  hastily  scanned 
the  names  upon  it,  and  his  brow  grew  dark  with  wrath,  as  he 
read  Count  de  Lussan's  against  a waltz. 

“Bowing  haughtily  to  my  companion,  he  said,  with  com- 
pressed lips : 

“ ‘Excuse  me,  but  I must  ask  you  to  release  this  lady  from 
her  promise  to  dance  with  you.' 

“ The  count's  eyes  flashed  fire,  and  his  face  grew  crimson,  as 
he  answered,  coldly  : 

“ ‘I  cannot  do  so,  my  lord,  except  at  the  lady's  own  re- 
quest. ' 

“ ‘She  does  request  it  through  me— by  my  desire,'  replied 
Lord  Dunforth,  sternly. 

“‘Miss  Douglas,  do  you  command  me  to  release  you.?’ 
asked  the  count,  turning  to  me  with  that  same  disagreeable 
smile  upon  his  lips  that  I seen  there  when  he  had  written  his 
name  against  the  waltz. 

“ ‘Tell  him  yes,  Meta.  *1  cannot  allow  it,  and  will  give  ycm 


THE  AUNT'S  STORY. 


33 


my  reasons  the  first  opportunity, ' whispered  my  lover,  in  plead- 
ing tones,  in  my  ear. 

‘‘I  was  on  the  point  of  yielding.  Oh,  why  was  I so  blind 
that  I did  not.?*  I had  half  withdrawn  my  hand  from  the  count's 
arm,  when  I heard  a low,  mocking  laugh  near  by. 

Glancing  up,  I saw  Helen  Capel  watching  every  motion, 
catching  every  word  and  tone,  a smile  of  mocking  triumph  on 
her  handsome  face. 

‘‘In  an  instant  I remembered  my  boast  to  her,  that  ‘Lord 
Dunforth  would  permit  me  to  dance  with  whomsoever  I chose/ 
and  in  that  fatal  moment  I resolved  to  show  her  my  power  over 
him  ; that  I had  a will  of  my  own. 

“Lifting  my  head  a trifle  haughtily,  I said  : 

“‘My  lord,  I have  promised  Count  de  Lussan  that  I will 
waltz  with  him,  and  I cannot  break  my  word. ' 

“ ‘Meta,  Meta,  don't  do  it !'  he  begged,  in  a whisper. 

“ ‘I  must !'  I answered,  coldly. 

“ ‘I  command  you  not !'  he  said,  in  a tone  which  the  count 
caught,  and  curled  his  lip  in  scorn. 

‘H  bowed  coldly,  all  the  antagonism  in  my  nature  aroused 
by  his  command,  then  turning  to  my  companion,  I said  : 

“ ‘The  music  is  inspiriting,  count  I am  ready,'  and  encir- 
cling my  waist  with  his^^rm,  he  whirled  me  into  the  midst  of 
the  giddy  dancers. 

“I  had  always  loved  to  waltz ; but,  oh  ! how  I have  hated  it 
since  then.  And  this  is  the  reason,  dear,  why  I would  never 
allow  you  to  learn.  It  is  not  decent  for  young  girls  to  be  en- 
circled in  the  arms  of  men  of  whom  they  know  nothing. 

“The  count  was  one  of  the  finest  dancers  I have  ever  seen; 


34 


THE  AUNT^S  STORY. 


he  was  like  a feather  upon  the  floor.  That  waltz  was  the  vei^ 
poetry  of  motion  to  me — I forgot  everything ; I forgot  with 
whom  I was  dancing,  I forgot  my  lover's  displeasure,  and  re- 
membered nothing  but  that  airy,  circling  round  and  round  un- 
til the  music  suddenly  ceased.  ! 

‘‘Then  I became  aware  of  strange,  surprised  glances  follow- 
ing us ; whispered  words  of  censure  greeted'  my  ears,  and  a 
tremor  of  uneasiness  took  possession  of  me,  which  merged  into 
absolute  terror  when  I reached  the  spot  where  Lord  Dunforth 
still  stood. 

“ He  was  like  a piece  of  statuary,  his  noble  brow  overcast, 
and  his  fine  lips  white  and  set  as  if  in  pain. 

“ Count  de  Lussan  released  me,  thanking  me  for  the  great 
pleasure  I had  given  him,  and  then  moved  away. 

‘ My  lover  did  not  speak  one  word  to  me  until  the  music 
struck  up  again,  and  the  attention  of  the  people  around  us  was 
attracted  in  other  directions. 

“ He  stood  motionless,  his  hand  appearing  to  rest  carelessly 
upon  the  back  of  the  chair  in  which  I sat ; but  I could  feel 
it  tremble  with  the  mighty  power  which  moved  him,  and  I felt 
congealed  to  ice.  I was  to  have  danced  with  him  that  set,  but 
he  did  not  ask  me,  and  when  at  length  he  bent  over  me,  and 
whispered  in  my  ear,  his  words  did  not  serve  to  reassure  me. 

“ ‘Will  you  oblige  me  by  withdrawing  from  the  company?' 
he  asked. 

“ I arose  at  once  and  took  his  arm. 

“ He  led  me  directly  to  the  dressing-room. 

‘‘  ‘ I will  wait  for  you  while  you  get  your  wraps,'  he  said. 

‘Oh,  Roy,  what  have  I done?'  I exclaimed,  in  deep  di®* 


THE  AUNT^S  STORY, 


35 


tress  at  his  coldness,  my  heart  thrilling  with  a terrible  pain. 

‘You  have  disgraced  yourself  and  me — the  Count  de  Lus- 
san  is  the  lowest  blackleg  in  London.' 

“Imagine,  if  you  can,  how  those  stern,  cruel  words  pierced 
me.  All  the  more,  because  I had  been  told  before  I had  com- 
mitted myself,  concerning  the  character  of  the  man  with  whom 
I had  made  myself  so  notorious.  And  I had  done  this  dread- 
ful thing  just  for  the  sake  of  showing  a vicious  girl  that  I had  a 
will  of  my  own.  And  novV,  when  all  too  late,  I realized  that 
it  had  been  but  a cunning  plot  between  Helen  Capel  and  her 
brother  to  ruin  me.  I afterward  discovered  that  she  had  gained 
an  entrance  for  the  Count  de  Lussan  to  her  aunt's  ball,  and 
they  had  arranged  between  them  to  tempt  me  into  this  indis- 
cretion, knowing  full  well  that  Lord  Dunforth  would  not  tole- 
rate anything  .of  the  kind. 

‘ ‘ I lifted  my  eyes  and  searched  my  lover's  face  after  those,  to 
me,  words  of  doom.  It  was  as  inflexible  as  marble,  not  a gleam 
of  love,  kindness,  or  forgiveness.  He  was  like  a stern  judge 
pronouncing  sentence  upon  me,  and  the  thought  burst  like 
lightning  upon  me,  searing  my  very  soul — 

“I  had  lost  him  forever!  and  throv/ing  out  my  hands  to- 
ward him,  I sank  with  a low  moan  of  agony  at  his  feet  before 
he  could  even  put  forth  an  arm  to  save  me." 


36 


THE  LEGACY  OF  JEWELS. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  LEGACY  OF  JEWELS. 

falling,  my  head  struck  against  the  base  of  a pillar,  cuV 
ting  a severe  gash  in  my  forehead,  which,  with  the  blow,  nearly 
cost  me  my  life — there  is  the  sear  now,  dear.” 

The  old  lady  lifted  the  silvery  hair  from  her  forehead,  reveal-  ! 
ing  a white  seam  about  an  inch  in  length. 

Brownie  reached  over  and  pressed  her  red  lips  upon  it  The  ' 
act  nearly  unnerved  Miss  Mehetabel  again.  1 

was  taken  to  a room  in  the  house,”  she  went  on,  ‘‘put  to 
bed,  and  a physician  sent  for,  but  it  was  hours  before  I recovered  : 
consciousness,  and  the  doctor  said  I had  had  a marvelous  es-  | 
cape.  i 

“It  was  several  days  before  I was  able  to  sit  up,  for  the  shock 
of  the  fall  had  affected  my  whole  system,  and  all  this  time  Lord  j 
Dunforth  had  not  been  near  me.  At  least,  so  Lady  Ruxley^ 
said  when  I inquired  for  him.  My  heart  cried  out  after  him.; 

I longed  with  a mighty  longing  to  have  him  forgive  me,  and 
take  me  back  into  his  great,  strong  love  again.  Surely,  I rea-  < 
soned,  he  will  not  allow  one  error,  especially  when  he  under-; 
stands  how  it  happened,  to  ruin  our  whole  future;  he  musi 
forgive  me — I would  plead  so  eloquently  that  he  would  not  be| 
able  to  resist  me.  I 


THE  LEGACY  OF  JEWELS. 


37 


lay  for  days  listening,  trying  to  catch  the  echo  of  his 
footsteps,  and  once  or  twice  I fancied  I heard  it,  and  the  deep, 
rich  tones  of  his  voice,  asking  some  eager  question.  Then  the 
sound  would  die  away,  and  I thought  my  ears  and  my  longing 
heart  had  deceived  me,  for  he  never  came,  and  I was  too  proud 
and  hurt  to  send  for  him. 

‘'At  last  one  day  my  maid  brought  me  in  a little  note. 

saw  and  recognized  the  handwriting  as  soon  as  she  opened 
Ihe  door. 

“ ‘Give  it  to  me,  quick  V I cried,  my  heart  bounding  at  the 
sight  of  it 

“With  trembling  fingers  I tore  it  open  and  read  these  cold, 
formal  words : 

“ ‘Will  Miss  Douglas  kindly  favor  me  with  an  interview,  if 
she  is  strong  enough  to  endure  it  ? and  oblige 

“‘Royal  Dunforth.' 

“I  nearly  shrieked  at  the  icy  words — my  nerves  were  still 
unstrung,  and  they  hurt  me  as  nothing  else  had  ever  done  be- 
fore. 

“Was  he  coming  to  blame  me — to  charge  me  with  the  dfs* 
grace  I had  brought  upon  him  and  myself,  and  then  cast  me 
off  forever  ? Had  I sinned  past  all  forgiveness  ? I asked  mysdf 
again  and  again. 

“Ah,  no,  it  could  not  be — he  musf  forgive  me;  he  wouW 
overlook  that  one  night's  error,  and  take  me  back  into  his  deep, 
strong  love  again.  I could  not  live  without  it.  I could  not 
breathe  without  the  sunshine  of  his  presence.  I would  throw 
; myself  at  his  feet,  and  sue  for  pardon  as  a condemned  criminal* 

« would  plead  for  his  Ufa. 


38 


THE  LEGACY  OF  JEWELS. 


I seized  a pencil  and  wrote  ; 

**  ‘Yes,  come  at  once,  if  you  can  forgive  your  repentant 

“ ‘ Meta/ 

‘‘I  folded  and  enclosed  it  in  an  envelope,  without  sealing  it, 
and  giving  it  to  the  maid,  told  her  to  carry  it  down  to  Lord  Dun- 
forth,  who,  she  said,  was  awaiting  an  answer. 

“ I did  wrong  to  send  him  a written  reply.  I ought  to  have 
gone  to  him,  even  if  I had  been  obliged  to  crawl  upon  my 
hands  and  knees  to  do  so ; but  I was  weak — I had  not  yet  left 
my  room,  was  able  only  to  sit  up  for  an  hour  or  two  at  a time, 
and  I thought,  of  course,  he  could  come  to  me.  I never 
dreamed  of  treachery. '' 

“Treachery,  auntie  I”  exclaimed  Brownie,  who  was  intensely 
interested  in  the  sad  tale. 

“Ah,  treachery,  child,  as  you  will  soon  see,  and  I might 
have  known  it,  too,  had  my  wits  been  about  me. 

“The  maid  came  back  almost  immediately. 

“ I looked  up  in  surprise  as  she  entered. 

“ ‘Why  ^re  you  back  so  soon?'  I demanded. 

“ ‘I  met  Miss  Helen  on  the  stairs,'  she  answered,  ‘and  she 
told  me  Lord  Dunforth  was  in  the  drawing-room,  and  she 
would  take  the  note  in  to  him.' 

“ I could  not  say  anything,  but  I did  not  like  it  even  then  ; 
I did  not  like  Helen  Capel  to  be  the  bearer  of  any  me^ge 
from  me  to  my  lover.  I liked  her  far  less  since  the  ball  than  I 
had  ever  done  before,  for  I believed  she  had  tried  to  make  all  this 
trouble  for  me.  I had  refused  to  see  her  during  my  sickness, 
although  she  had  called  a number  of  times,  and  had  also  sent 
me  beautiful  flowers. 


THE  LEGACY  OF  JEWELS. 


39 


lay  two  hours,  listening  for  my  .loved  one’s  elastic  tread 
on  the  stairs.  I had  not  a doubt  but  that  he  would  obey  my 
message  and  come  to  me.  But  at  last  I heard  gay  voices  in 
the  hall,  then  his  deep,  rich  tones  gravely  saying  ‘good-morn- 
ing’ to  some  one,  after  which  came  the  sound  of  closing  doors, 
and  I knew  he  had  gone. 

“With  a heart  like  lead,  I bade  the  maid  go  down  and  ask 
Miss  Capel  if  she  had  given  Lord  Dunforth  my  message. 

“She came  back  saying  that  Miss  Capel  said,  ‘Certainly, 
she  had  given  his  lordship  the  message.’ 

“Then  it  came  to  me  that  I had  made  a condition  in  my 
note — I had  said  if  he  could  forgive  me,  to  come  to  me. 

“ He  could  not  forgive  me,  therefore  he  would  not  come, 
and,  without  even  a word  of  farewell,  he  had  left  me  forever. 

“ I cannot  tell  you  all  that  I suffered.  Brownie.  I know  I 
raved  against  the  injustice  of  Heaven  in  permitting  such  sorrow 
to  come  upon  me,  and  in  shutting  out  the  light  of  my  life  from 
me.  I cursed  Helen  Capel,  her  brother,  and  the  Count  de 
Lussan  for  their  part  in  the  drama ; but  most  of  all,  I cursed 
myself  for  having  allowed  myself  to  become  their  dupe. 

“I  insisted  at  once  upon  returning  to  my  own  home,  where 
I was  again  prostrated,  and  for  another  long  month  lay  sick  and 
weak,  and  praying  to  die ; and  thus  my  wedding-day  passed. 
Oh,  who  can  tell  the  blackness  of  despair  wLich  came  over  me 
as  that  day  came  and  went.  I was  to  have  been  a happy  wife, 
proud  and  blessed  in  the  love  of  a noble  man.  Instead,  I was 
a heart-broken  girl,  wailing  out  my  life  in  loneliness.  A home- 
less beggar  in  the  street  was  not  more  wretched  than  I. 

“Another  month  went  by,  and  I was  at  length  thought  able 


40 


THE  LEGACY  OF  JEWELS, 


to  ride  out ; and  one  day  my  father  took  me  out  to  Richmond' 
Park,  where  we  spent  an  hour  or  two  driving  about. 

‘‘On  our  return,  when  about  two  miles  from  the  city,  I saw 
Lord  Dunforth's  elegant  carriage,  with  its  span  of  black  horses, 
approaching.  He  was  driving  himself,  and  a lady  whom  I did 
not  know  sat  by  his  side. 

“With  my  brain  on  fire,  and  my  heart  quivering  with  pain, 

I sat  like  a statue,  watching  his  every  movement,  noting  his 
every  expression. 

“He  was  so  busily  engaged  in  conversation  with  the  strange 
lady  that  he  did  not  notice  whom  he  was  about  to  meet  until 
we  were  almost  opposite  them,  then,  glancing  up,  he  caught  my 
eyes  fixed  upon  him. 

“ He  gave  a sudden  start,  which  I could  see  shook  his  whole 
frame,  while  an  expression  of  pain  passed  over  his  features.  His 
face  grew  pale  as  my  own,  and  he  leaned  forward  with  an  eager 
look  in  his  eyes,  as  if  about  to  speak.  Oh,  if  I had  only 
smiled,  if  I had  but  spoken  one  word,  all  would  have  been  well 
even  then ; but  I did  not,  and  drawing  himself  erect  again,  he 
inclined  his  head  with  haughty  grace,  and  was  gone. 

“I  did  not  realize  what  my  own  manner  toward  him  had 
been.  I only  was  conscious  that  he,  my  belSved,  was  near — 
that  I was  looking  upon  his  face  and  into  those  dear  eyes  once 
more.  I could  not  move,  I could  not  speak,  and  some  dis- 
tance was  between  us  before  I realized  that  I had  given  him  the 
cut  direct — had  only  looked  with  a fixed  stare  in  his  face,  conse- 
quently had  no  right  to  expect  anything  more  than  the  haughty 
bow  which  he  had  given  me,  and  which  had  again  crushed  my 
heart. 


THE  LEGACY  OF  JEWELS, 


41 


'‘Many  times  I longed  to  write  kim  a line,  begging  him  to 
come  to  me,  if  only  for  an  hour,  that  I might  hear  him  say  he 
forgave  me ; many  times  I had  the  pen  in  my  hand  to  do  so, 
but  pride  whispered,  'you  are  sick  and  feeble,  it  is  his  place  to 
come  to  you,  not  yours  to  beg  his  presence and  so  w^,  who 
to-day  might  have  been  united  and  loving,  were  parted  for- 
ever. 

"My  parents  decided  soon  after  to  take  me  abroad,  as  the 
physician  said  my  health  would  never  improve  unless  I had 
some  cliange,  and  we  set  -^ail  for  the  United  States  early  in 
May. 

"In  July,  after  our  arrival  here,  they  both  sickened  and  died 
very  suddenly,  and  I was  left  al(5ne  a stranger  in  a strange 
country. 

"I  could  not  return  to  England,  where  I had  suffered  and 
lost  so  much,  and  I could  not  remain  here  alone.  According- 
ly, I wrote  my  brother,  begging  him  to  take  his  family  and 
come  to  me.  I had  often  heard  him  say  he  would  like  to  live 
in  America.  I commissioned  him  to  settle  the  estate,  as  far  as 
I was  concerned,  to  the  best  of  his  ability,  and  bring  me  the 
proceeds  when  he  came. 

"To  my  great  comfort,  he  consented  to  my  request,  and  in 
October  arrived  in  New  York  with  his  wife  and  child — their 
son,  who  was  your  father.  Brownie. 

"We  decided  to  make  our  home  in  this  city,  having  spent 
some  time  in  traveling,  and  finding  no  other  place  we  liked  so 
well ; and  here  they  lived  until  God  called  them,  and  here  I 
have  lived  ever  since. 

Five  years  after  our  arrival  we  heard  that  Lord  Dunforth 


4^ 


THE  LEGACY  OF  JEWELS. 


had  married  Helen  CapeFs  cousin,  Lady  Leonie  Herford,  and 
hist  three  months  later  I learned  that  but  for  Miss  CapeTs  ir*ach 
ery  I might  have  been  his  wife. '' 

'‘Oh,  auntie  I only  just  three  months  after  his  marriage!* 
exclaimed  Brownie,  in  deep  distress. 

"Yes,  dear,  those  three  months  were  all  that  stood  between 
me  and  my  future  happiness ; but  what  matters  it  if  it  had  been 
but  a day,  or  an  hour  even,  if  it  were  that  much  too  late? 

" I found  out  that  Miss  Capel  never  gave  that  note  of  mine 
to  Lord  Dunforth,  but  told  him  instead  that  I utterly  refused 
to  see  him  then  and  ever  after. 

"When  he  met  me  driving  afterward,  and  I did  not  even 
recognize  him,  but  sat  so  cold  and  indifferent,  he  was  confirmed 
in  the  truth  of  her  statement.  I was  told  that  it  was  a terrible 
blow  to  him,  for  he  loved  me,  and  would  have  made  me  his 
wife  notwithstanding  all  that  had  passed.  He  left  England  al- 
most immediately  after  we  sailed  for  America,  and  did  not  re- 
turn until  about  a year  before  his  marriage.” 

"Who  told  you  all  this,  auntie?” 

"A  friend  of  his  lordship  told  my  brother,  who  met  him 
while  he  was  traveling  in  this  country.  He  did  not  know  the 
truth  of  the  matter  regarding  the  note  I sent,  until  brother  told 
him,  and  I do  not  suppose  Lord  Dunforth  knows  to  this  day 
of  Helen  CapeFs  treachery,  or  that  she  was  the  cause  of  our 
separation. 

"Now,  darling,”  concluded  Miss  Mehetabel,  with  a little 
tremulous  smile  which  was  sadder  than  tears,  "you  know  the 
reason  why  I am  an  old  maid/* 


THE  LEGACY  OF  JEWELS. 


43 


''Auntie,  auniie^  it  is  the  saddest  story  I ever  heard  in  my 
life,  ” sobbed  Brownie,  as  she  kisstd  her  trembling  hands. 

"Yes,  dear,  it  is  the  saddest  life  that  ever  was  lived,”  wailed 
the  old  lady,  wringing  her  hands.  "I  have  loved  to  idolatry 
for  forty-five  years,  and  to  know  that  the  love  of  a noble  man, 
the  bliss  of  a perfect  home,  the  love  of  precious  children,  the 
sound  of  pattering  feet  and  blithesome  voices,  might  all  have 
been  mine,  but  for  that  proud,  willful  act  of  my  life,  is  almost 
more  than  I have  been  able  to  bear.  ” 

"Dearest,  don't  let  it  break  you  down  so,”  cried  the  young 
girl,  as  this  wild  wave  of  anguish  swept  over  Miss  Mehetabel, 
making  a child  of  the  stately,  the  grave,  and  dignified  old 
lady. 

Brownie  wound  her  arms  about  her  neck,  and  drew  the  white 
head  upon  her  bosom,  kissing  away  her  tears,  and  murmuring 
soothing  words  to  quiet  her. 

"The  fountains  of  life  are  breaking  up,  my  pet,”  she  said, 
when  at  length  she  had  succeeded  in  regaining  something  of 
her  usual  composure,  "or  I should  never  have  yielded  thus  to 
my  grief  before  another.  But  I have  had  no  ray  of  sunlight  in 
all  these  forty- five  years  but  you,  my  darling.  I believe  God 
sent  you  to  save  me  from  going  mad  with  the  fire  which  was 
consuming  my  brain.  He  took  your  father  and  mother,  and 
gave  you  to  me — made  you  first  my  burden,  then  my  blessing, 
to  save  me  and  make  me  realize  that  life  still  held  some  duties, 
if  no  joys.” 

"Did  Miss  Capel  ever  marry?”  Brownie  asked. 

"Yes,  the  year  following  Lord  Dunforth's  marriage ; but  I 
have  forgotten  the  name  of  her  husband.” 


44 


THE  LEGACY  OF  JEWELS, 


*'If  you  had  discovered  her  treachery  before  his  marriage 
would  you  have  sought  a reconciliation 

^'Certainly,  dear,  for  I know  that  he  loved  me  with  a lore  as 
true  and  strong  as  my  own  for  him,  and  this  makes  me  think 
to  caution  you,  never  to  let  pride  stand  in  the  way  of  your  hap- 
piness. If  I had  hushed  the  voice  of  pride,  and  written  his 
lordship  to  come  to  me,  when  I so  longed  to  do  so,  all  would 
have  been  well  even  then.'' 

believe  I should  have  tried’ it,  had  I been  in  your  place, 
auntie,"  said  the  young  girl,  thoughtfully. 

‘'You  think  you  would  now,  knowing  all  the  circumstances. 
I know  you  are  a bright,  winsome  darling,  but  you  are  a Doug- 
las, notwithstanding,  and  have  their  proud  spirit,  which  is  as  set 
as  the  'eternal  hills,'  but  I beg  of  you, do  not  ever  allow  it  to 
ruin  your  happiness.  If  you  do  wrong,  it  can  never  harm  you 
to  say  'forgive  me.'  If  there  ever  comes  a misunderstanding, 
which  a word  can  set  right,  speak  it,  though  it  galls  you  to  the 
soul, "said  Miss  Mehetabel,  earnestly. 

" I should  like  to  have  known  Lord  Dunforth,  auntie — I 
mean  I should  like  to  see  the  man  whom  you  would  choose," 
the  young  girl  said,  musingly,  and  not  heeding  the  advice  just 
given. 

In  after  months  she  remembered  it. 

A look  of  keen  pain  swept  over  the  old  lady's  face,  but  she 
bad  fully  recovered  her  self-possession  now. 

"Go  and  bring  me  a little  ebony  box,  dear,  which  you  will 
find  in  the  third  drawer  of  my  dressing-case,"  she  said. 

Brownie  arose  to  obey,  and  soon  returned,  bringing  a beau- 
liful  casket  about  twelve  inches  square  and  eight  deep.  It  was 


THE  LEGACY  OF  JEWELS. 


45 


inlaid  with  pearl  and  gold,  in  lovely  designs,  and  was  quite 
heavy  for  anything  so  small. 

Miss  Mehetabel  took  a delicate  chain  from  her  neck,  to  which 
was  attached  a tiny  golden  key. 

Her  hand  shook  as  with  the  palsy,  as  she  inserted  the  key  in 
its  lock. 

‘^This  has  not  been  opened  for  forty  years,  my  child,  and  I 
feel  as  if  I were  about  to  look  upon  the  dead, ''  she  said,  in  a 
voice  that  shook,  despite  her  efforts  to  control  it. 

Don't  open  it  now,  then.  Aunt  Meta.  I cannot  bear  you 
to  live  over  this  sorrow  for  me,"  Brownie  answered,  a feeling  of 
awe  stealing  over  her  at  Miss  MehetabeFs  words. 

‘ ^ I will  look  once  more  before  I die,  dear,  and  I wish  to  tell 
you  about  these  things,  which  are  to  be  yours  when  I am 
gone." 

She  turned  the  key  as  she  spoke,  and  lifted  the  jeweled  cover, 
and  Brownie  uttered  a cry  of  delight  at  the  sight  which  greeted 
her  eyes. 

There,,  upon  their  blue  velvet  bed,  gleamed  such  jewels  as 
she  had  never  seen  before. 

In  the  center  lay  a beautiful  diamond  necklace,  with  ear- 
pendants  to  match.  Then  there  was  a coral  and  diamond 
cross,  with  a hair  ornament,  in  the  shape  of  a butterfly,  to 
match.  A tiara  composed  of  pearls,  opals,  and  diamonds, 
with  a cross  for  the  neck.  Rings  of  pearls,  rubies,  sapphires, 
and  emeralds;  one,  a large  pearl,  surrounded  by  six  small, 
pure  diamonds,  Miss  Mehetabel  took  up  tenderly  in  her  hand. 

‘"This,"  she  said,  while  her  lip  quivered,  ‘'Lord  Dunforth 
put  upon  my  finger  when  he  told  me  of  his  love.  It  has  nevei 


46 


THE  LEGACY  OF  yElYELS. 


been  there  since  that  day,  when  I believed  he  went  away 
me  forever  of  his  own  accord.  These  other  jewels  were  given 
me  in  honor  of  my  approaching  marriage,  but  I have  never 
worn  any  of  them,  excepting  this  coral  and  diamond  cross 
which  Royal  gave  me,  and  which  I wore  to  that  ball,  where  I 
lost  everything  dear  in  life.  I have  no  use  for  them,  and  hence- 
forth they  are  all  yours,  dear,  to  do  as  you  like  with — if  ever 
you  feel  that  you  can  wear  them  for  my  sake,  I wish  you  to 
do  so." 

‘^Oh,  auntie,  they  seem  too  preclofts  for  me  to  wear;  they 
seem  like  something  sacred  to  me,"  the  young  girl  said,  rever- 
ently, while  her  eyes  lingered  upon  their  beauty. 

‘‘Then  you  will  prize  them  all  the  more,  dear,  and  I am 
glad  that  it  is  so — ^you  will  never  wear  them  lightly,  and  they 
will  never  grow  valueless  to  you.  You  have  the  cuff-buttons 
already  which  Lord  Dunforth  gave  me  at  the  same  time  with 
the  coral  cross. 

“Are  those — did  you  give  them  to  me.?"  stammered  Brownie, 
feeling  that  she  had  almost  been  sacrilegious  in  wearing  any- 
thing so  precious,  and  not  know  it. 

“Yes,  dear,  they  were  the  only  articles  of  his  giving  which  I 
ever  permitted  myself  to  wear,  and  then  only  a few  times.  So, 
feeling  that  they  ought  to  do  somebody  some  good,  I had  them 
marked  for  you  for  your  last  birthday." 

“I  shall  never  wear  them  again  without  feeling  that  they  are 
tenfold  more  precious  than  ever  before,"  the  young  girl  said, 
with  starting  tears. 

She  little  knew  that  even  then  one  of  them  was  lost  She 


THE  LEGACY  OF  JEWELS. 


47 


had  removed  her  linen  ulster  upon  returning  home,  and  left 
her  cuffs  hanging  in  it 

Mias  Mehetabel  now  lifted  the  velvet  bed,  and  laid  it  with  all 
its  glittering  wealth  upon  the  table  near  which  she  sat  Be- 
neath it  lay  a locket  of  blue  enamel  and  gold,  studded  with 
diamonds;  a little  bunch  of  dried  flowers,  a crumpled  card, 
and  a pair  of  soiled  white  kid  gloves. 

These,”  Miss  Mehetabel  said,  touching  the  flowers,  “ I 
wore  in  my  hair  that  night,  fastened  with  the  butterfly ; and 
these  are  the  gloves — they  bear  the  last  touch  of  his  hand. 
This  is  the  card  on  which  the  Count  de  Lussan  wrote  his 
name.  ” 

She  took  up  the  locket  with  a tender  touch. 

‘ ‘ This  contains  the  face  of  the  one  man  on  earth  to  me. 
Open  it,  dear — I cannot” 

Brownie  took  it,  the  great  tears  rolling  over  her  flushed 
cheeks.  It  seemed  so  inexpressibly  sad,  and  as  if  she  too  were 
about  to  look  upon  the  face  of  the  dead. 

She  pressed  the  spring  and  it  flew  open.  From  one  ride  of 
it  there  gazed  up  at  her  the  dark,  noble  face  of  a man  about 
twenty-five  years  of  age; 

It  was  indeed  a kingly  &ce  (rightly  named  Royal),  having  a 
broad,  thoughtful  brow,  surmounted  by  curling  masses  of  dark 
hair.  Eyes  deep  and  fathomless  as  a forest  lake,  a nose  straight 
and  aristocratic,  and  lips  upon  which  firmness  and  gentleness 
blended,  while  from  his  decided  chin  fell  a full,  silken,  curling 
beard. 

The  fiiir  girl  gazed  upon  it  for  several  moments  in  silence, 
Umi  heaving  a deep  sigh,  she  said,  softly  : 


48 


THE  LEGACY  OF  JEWELS. 


He  was  grand,  auntie  1'^ 

A tremulous  smile  quivered  on  Miss  Mehetabers  lips  at  this 
tribute  to  her  old-time  lover,  and  she  held  out  her  hand  for  the 
locket 

Brownie  gently  laid  it  on  her  palm,  then,  rising,  she  went  to 
the  window  and  looked  out,  to  hide  her  tears  and  give  the  old 
lady  an  opportunity  to  gaze,  unobserved,  upon  that  face,  which 
she  had  not  seen,  only  as  it  was  stamped  upon  her  heart,  for 
forty-five  weary  years. 

When  at  length  she  heard  her  shut  it  with  a sigh  that  was 
almost  a groan,  she  came  back  and  stood  silently  by  her  side, 
while  she  replaced  the  jewels,  locked  the  casket,  and  clasped 
the  chain  with  its  golden  key  again  on  her  neck. 

‘‘Put  it  away,^'  she  said,  with  white  lips,  “and  when  I am 
dead  come  and  get  this  chain  and  key,  and  wear  it  around  your 
own  neck  as  long  as  you  live. 

Little  did  that  fond  old  lady  dream  of  the  pain  and  shame 
which  that  legacy  of  jewels  would  bring  upon  the  fair  girl  whonj 
she  so  loved. 

Brownie  returned  the  box  to  its  place,  wondering  if  anything 
so  wondrous  sad  as  the  story  to  which  she  had  just  listened 
would  ever  come  to  mar  her  future. 

“Now  go,  dear,  and  dress  for  tea — I am  tired  and  would  rest 
a while;  when  the  bell  rings  I will  come  down,”  Miss  Mehet- 
abel  said,  trying  to  smile  as  cheerfully  as  if  they  had  be«n  hav- 
ing only  a social  chat,  and  her  heart-strings  had  not  been 
strained  to  their  utmost  tension. 

Brownie  carefully  drew  down  the  window-shades,  then  kissing 
n«*  aunt  softly  upon  her  withered  cheek,  noisdeasly  withdrew. 


LAYINC  DOWN"  LIFERS  BURDEN. 


4^ 

CHAPTER  V. 

LAYING  DOWN  LIFfi's  BURDEN. 

Suppe?  tiffin  came. 

Brownie  and  Miss  Aspasia  Huntington,  in  their  fresh,  crisp 
muslins,  with  bright  eyes  and  faces,  descended  to  the  dining- 
room, where  a tempting  little  tea  was  laid  for  three.  The 
Sevres  china  contrasted  daintily  with  the  crimson  cloth  ; the 
cut-glass  goblets  and  fruit-dishes,  with  their  silver  covers, 
gleamed  like  diamonds,  and  the  polished  silver  service  gave  an 
added  air  of  elegance  to  the  richly-spread  board. 

Where  is  auntie.?  Has  she  not  come  down  yet?''  Brownie 
asked  of  the  dignified  waiter. 

^‘No,  miss,"  was  the  courteous  reply. 

‘‘Ah,  here  she  comes,"  continued  the  young  girl,  hastening 
forward  to  lead  Miss  Mehetabel  to  her  seat 

“Are  you  feding  ill,  auntie?  You  are  looking  pale,"  she 
added,  anxiously,  noticing  the  wax-like  appearance  of  her  face. 

She  did,  indeed,  look  uncommonly  white,  and  somewhat 
wan.  I 

“No,  dear,  I feel  as  well  as  usual,"  smiled  the  old  lady; 
and  immediately  she  began  a lively  chat  with  Miss  Aspasia,  for 
she  saw  that  Brownie  feared  that  their  afternoon's  conference 
had  been  too  much  for  her  feeble  strength. 

She  exerted  herself  to  the  utmost  to  make  the  hour  pass 


50 


LAYING  DOWN  LIFERS  MUFBEN. 


pleasantly.  She  told  stories  of  her  early  youth — droll  little  ad- 
ventures which  had  happened  to  her  as  a girl — and  which  soon 
set  them  both  laughing  heartily;  and  for  the  once,  the  stately 
dame  seemed  to  forget  her  years,  threw  off  her  stateliness,  and 
became  almost  a girl  again  herself. 

They  lingered  long  over  their  cozy  tea,  little  dreaming  that 
they  would  never  sit  thus  together  again ; and  Brownie,  in  the 
loneliness  and  desolateness  which  followed,  often  looked  bach 
to  this  hour,  and  dwelt  fondly  upon  the  memory  of  it. 

The  western  sun  streamed  in  through  the  large  bay-window,^ 
lighting  up  the  rich  room  and  the  elegantly-laid  table;  touch- 
ing the  bright  heads  of  those  young  girls — the  one  so  golden^ 
the  other  so  richly  brown— caressing  them  in  their  beauty,  ac» 
if  they  had  been  some  choice  lovely  flowers.  It  rested  softly 
upon  the  aged  face  and  silvery  locks  of  Miss  Mehetabel ; and, 
as  Brownie  looked  up  and  noticed  it,  and  the  happy  content 
shining  from  her  mild  eyes  and  resting  on  her  smiling  lips-- 
from  which  every  trace  of  pain  had  now  vanished — it  seemed  to 
her  almost  as  if  an  angel  had  opened  the  gates  of  Paradise,  just 
to  let  down  a ray  of  glory,  as  if  in  holy  benediction  upon  her, 
before  she  should  go  out  into  the  great  unknown. 

Ever  afterward,  when  she  thought  of  her  dear  aunt — mother, 
,as  she  sometimes  called  her — this  hour,  the  happy  light  in 
those  kind  eyes,  the  sweet  smile  upon  her  lips,  always  returned 
Xo  her ; and  she  knew  then  that  the  sting  which  had  poisoned 
all  her  ^ had  ceased  its  smarting,  that  all  pain  was  over,  and 
her  rest  was  at  hand. 

After  tea  they  all  went  out  upon  the  veranda,  which  over- 
Woked  a charming  spot,  half  garden,  half  lawn. 


LAYING  DOWN  LIFE'S  BURDEN, 


51 


Brownie,  after  seeing  Miss  Douglas  in  a comfortable  arm- 
chair, with  a hassock  at  her  feet,  threw  herself  into  the  ham- 
mock, and  swung  lazily  back  and  forth,  while  the  more  stately 
Aspasia  gracefully  arranged  herself  and  her  lengthy  skirts  upon 
a rustic  scat  near  Miss  MehetabeL 

A half  hour  passed  in  pleasant  conversation,  when  Brownie, 
chancing  to  glance  at  her  aunt,  saw  that  she  had  grown  very 
pale  again,  and  her  lips  had  a bluish  tinge,  which  she  had  never 
seen  upon  them  before. 

She  got  out  of  the  hammock,  and  coming  up  behind  her, 
bent  down,  until  her  bright  cheek  rested  against  the  aged  one. 

Auntie,"'  she  said,  ‘‘it  is  getting  chilly  and  damp  out  here ; 
let  us  go  in. " 

“Very  well,  dear;"  and  rising,  she  allowed  her  to  lead  her 
into  the  house. 

“Shall  we  ^o  into  the  drawing-room,  or  up  into  your  bou- 
doir.?^" Brownie  asked,  lingering  in  the  hall. 

“Come  up  into  my  room;  it  is  more  cozy  there,"  she  an- 
swered. 

Up  the  grand  staircase  they  went,  and  a chill  of  fear  settled 
upon  the  heart  of  that  young  girl,  as  she  noted  how  slowly 
Miss  Douglas  moved,  and  how  heavily  she  leaned  upon  her 
arm.  Something  very  unusual  for  the  self-reliant  Miss  Mehet- 
abel. 

After  she  was  comfortably  seated  again.  Brownie  brought  her 
% glass  of  wine. 

“Drink  this,  auntie,"  she  said. 

“What  is  the  matter  with  you,  darling?"  questioned  Miss 
Mehetabel,  looking  up  into  the  anxious  face  above  her. 


52 


LAYING  DOWN  LIFE^iS  BURDEN 


You  do  not  look  quite  well,  auntie,  and  I am  afraid  you 
have  taken  cold/' 

‘^No,  I think  not;  I feel  perfectly  well,  and  almost  young 
again,  to  have  two  such  bright,  lively  girls  about  me.  But  I 
will  drink  the  wine  to  please  you,  it  will  only  serve  to  make 
me  more  merry/'  And  she  swallowed  the  rich  old  port,  with  a 
fond  glance  and  smile  at  the  lovely  girl.  What  a blessing 
you  are  to  me,  darling  1 You  have  been  my  sunbeam  all  your 
life.  Remember  that  always,  will  you,  dear?"  she  added,  as 
she  handed  the  glass  back  to  her. 

Brownie  for  answer  stooped  and  kissed  her,  yet  her  heart 
ached  strangely  at  the  fond  words ; they  seemed  like  the  fare- 
well of  some  one  about  to  die. 

Ah,  if  she  could  have  known  that  coming  events  were  but 
casting  their  shadows  before  I 

Another  half-hour  passed,  and  Miss  Douglas  said  she  would 
retire,  and  they  might  go  down  into  the  drawing-room  and 
amuse  themselves. 

At  this  moment  the  hall-bell  rang,  and  soon  after  the  foot- 
man brought  up  two  cards  upon  a salver. 

‘‘Anna  Gordon  and  her  brother,"  Brownie  said,  after  read- 
ing the  names  upon  them. 

“Well,  dear,  go  right  down,  and  send  up  Martha  to  attend 
to  me,"  commanded  Miss  Douglas. 

“No,  auntie;  I want  the  pleasure  of  putting  you  to  bed  my- 
self to-night.  Aspasia  is  well  acquainted  with  them — let  her 
go  down,  and  I will  come  when  I have  tucked  you  up." 

In  vain  Miss  Mehetabel  protested,  but  Brownie  was  playfully 
willful,  and  refused  to  go  for  Martha ; and  so  Miss  Huntington 


LAYING  DOWN  LIFERS  BURDEN 


53 


finally  departed  to  entertain  the  visitors,  wondering  inwardly  at 
her  friend's  devotion  to  ‘'that  old  maid.'' 

With  tender,  loving  hands,  the  young  girl  assisted  her  to  dis- 
robe, brought  forth  the  snowy  robe  dt  nuit^  with  its  delicate  lacG 
at  the  neck  and  wrists,  and  the  dainty  cap,  which  she  insisted 
must  be  tied  in  the  pretty  bow,  even  if  she  was  going  to  bed 
and  there  was  no  one  to  see  it  She  shook  up  the  soft  pillow 
to  make  it  lighter  still,  and  smoothed  the  wrinkles  out  of  the 
counterpane,  and  then  drew  a little  stand  with  a glass  of  water 
and  a tiny  silver  bell  upon  it,  so- that  she  need  not  get  up  if  she 
wanted  anything. 

She  then  turned  down  the  gas  just  as  she  knew  she  liked  it, 
and  flitted  hither  and  thither  putting  away  the  clothes  she  had 
just  taken  off,  and  arranging  them  conveniently  for  morning. 
She  lingered  tenderly  over  them,  just  as  if  she  was  impressed 
she  should  never  do  it  again. 

Finally  all  was  done  to  her  mind,  and  she  turned  again  to- 
ward the  bed  to  get  her  good-night  kiss. 

Miss  Mehetabel  lay  very  quiet,  with  her  eyes  closed,  a smile 
upon  her  lips,  and,  in  the  dim  light,  with  her  snowy  surround- 
ings, she  looked  like  scftne  beautiful  saint  in  repose. 

“Auntie  must  have  been  tired  indeed,  if  she  could  fall  asleep 
so  soon, " said  Brownie  to  herself,  as  she  drew  near. 

“Auntie,  good-night.  If  you  are  comfortable  now,  I will 
go  down,"  she  said,  softly,  disliking  to  disturb  her,  and  yet  not 
wishing  to  go  without  her  customary  caress. 

She  bent  over  and  touched  her  lips  to  the  placid  forehead. 

Still  the  old  lady  did  not  move. 


54 


LAYING  DOWN  LIFERS  BURDEN 


Brownie  started,  and  looked  more  closely.  What  did  this 
solemn  silence  mean  ? 

“Auntie,  I am  going  now.  Kiss  me,  please,"  Brownie  said, 
aloud,  a note  of  fear  in  her  voice,  and  her  rosy  lips  met  thoaa 
smiling,  motionless  ones. 

With  a smothered  cry  of  terror,  the  fair  girl  elarted  back. 

They  had  given  back  no  answering  caress — they  were  rigid 
as  marble ! 

The  eyelids  rested  upon  the  pale  cheeks,  the  silvery  hair  lay 
smooth  upon  the  waxen  brow,  the  delicate  hands  were  clasped 
peacefully  upon  her  motionless  bosom,  and  she  seemed  like 
one  who  had  only  fallen  into  a deep  sleep,  but — she  was  dead  1 

In  a moment  she  had  passed,  without  pain  or  knowledge, 
from  life's  sorrow  and  wearinais  into  the  great  unknown  future ; 
the  gate  of  Paradise,  which  had  seemed  to  Brownie  at  the  tea- 
table  to  have  swung  apart  just  enough  to  let  a litiU  of  Heaven's 
glory  down  upon  her,  had  now  opened  wide,  and  she  had 
passed  through  its  portals  into  the  full  glory  of  the  celestial 
city,  and  the  great  burden  which  for  forty-five  years  had  crushed 
her  kind  and  loving  heart  was  rolled  away  at  last. 

Brownie,  after  that  one  smothered  cry,  stood  for  a moment 
motionless  as  Miss  Douglas  herself. 

She  did  not  scream  or  faint. 

A terrible  weight  of  pain  clutched  at  her  heart  as  the  fearful 
conviction  of  the  truth  flashed  upon  her  when  she  touched 
those  rigid  lips,  and  a great  and  solemn  awe  stole  over  her. 
But  her  dear  one  had  stepped  from  earth  to  Heaven  so  quietlv; 
so  peacefully,  and  she  seemed  so  beautiful  lying  there  in  ht® 
spotless  night  robes,  with  her  clasped  hands  and  lingering  smile, 


LAYING  DOWN  LIFERS  BURDEF 


55 


ihere  was  no  terror  about  it,  and  Brownie  would  no  more 
^ disturbed  that  holy  stillness  than  she  would  have  disturbed 
the  house  of  God.  ' 

With  swift,  noiseless  steps,  but  ashen  cheek,  she  glided  from 
tlie  room  to  call  assistance,  but  met  Martha  just  coming  in. 

Martha,  go  and  tell  Mrs.  Grim  wood  to  come  here  at  once, 
and  then  send  James  for  Dr.  Sargeant.  Do  not  lose  a mo- 
ment,'' she  said,  in  low  tones,  but  with  white,  shaking  lips. 
‘‘What  is  it.  Miss  Brownie?"  asked  the  servant,  anxiously. 
“I  don't  know  really^  Martha,  but  go — goT 
Then,  with  no  sense  of  fear,  she  turned  back  into  that  cham- 
ber of  death,  and  stood  silently  by  the  dear  “aunt-mother," 
who  had  for  so  long  filled  the  places  of  both  father  and  mother 
to  her. 

She  knew  now  she  was  dead;  she  knew  Dr.  Sargeant,  or 
any  one  else,  could  do  nothing  for  her ; they  could  not  piece 
again  the  broken  golden  thread  of  life,  nor  give  back  to  her  the 
tender  care  and  love  which  the  good  Father  had  seen  fit  to  take 
from  her.  And  a sense  of  her  great  loneliness  was  beginning 
to  creep  over  her. 

The  housekeeper  now  came  quickly  in,  alarmed  by  the  mes- 
iage  which  Martha  had  taken  to  her. 

Brownie  turned  and  met  her,  but  she  was  so  calm  and  col- 
lected that  the  woman  was  half  reassured. 

“Is  anything  the  matter.  Miss  Meta?"  she  asked,  with  an 
anxious  glance  at  the  still  figure  in  the  bed. 

“Do  not  be  alarmed,  Mrs.  Grimwood,  and  do  not  let  there 
be  any  confusion,  but  I am  afraid  auntie  has  gone  home. " 

The  woman  had  strong  nerves,  and  had  looked  upon  death 


5^ 


LAYING  DOWN  LIFERS  BURDEN. 


many  times,  but  she  regarded  the  quiet  girl  as  she  made  this 
startling  statement  with  utter  amazement.  Then,  in  an  instant, 
she  was  beside  Miss  Douglas'  couch. 

One  glance  was  sufficient ; she  knew  that  the  old  lady  had 
indeed  gone  home. 

‘‘Miss  Meta,"  she  said,  sadly,  and  turning  to  her,  “it  is 
true,  and  I have  been  looking  for  it  in  just  this  way  for  a long 
time.  But  to  think  you  should  have  been  here  all  alone  with 
her — ^you,  so  young,  and  having  never  looked  on  death  before  I" 
and  overcome  with  sympathy  for  the  lonely  girl,  she  gathered 
her  close  in  her  arms,  and  began  to  cry  softly  over  her. 

A hard,  dry  sob  came  shudderingly  up  from  Brownie's  aching 
heart 

“She  was  my  father  and  mother  both,  and  I loved  her  so,” 
she  said,  but  no  tears  fell  from  her  burning  eyes. 

The  shock  had  benumbed  her  into  this  false  calm,  and  she 
seemed  to  have  no  power  to  weep. 

“Come  away,  dear,  this  is  no  place  for  you,”  said  Mrs.  Grim- 
wood,  gently  trying  to  force  her  from  the  spot 

“Oh,  no,  I cannot  go  away  and  leave  her.  Dr.  Sargeant 
will  be  here  presently,  and  I wish  to  see  him.  Does  she  not 
look  lovely,  Mrs.  Grimwood  ?”  and  she  touched  the  silvery  hair 
with  the  tips  of  her  rosy  fingers. 

The  woman  did  not  reply,  except  by  a look  of  wonder,  and 
at  that  moment  the  doctor  came  bustling  in,  while  the  servants 
began  to  gather  about  the  door,  having  learned  from  Martha 
that  something  was  wrong. 

Dr.  Sargeant,  as  a matter  of  form,  went  up  to  the  bed,  felt 
fer  the  pulse,  and  placed  his  hand  above  the  motionless  heart, 


LAYING  DOWN  LIFERS  BURDEN 


57 


but  his  quick  eye  had  told  him  all  the  moment  he  entered  the 
room.  He,  too,  had  long  expected  it. 

Yes,  she  was  dead,  he  said,  but  she  had  died  without  a pang, 
from  disease  of  the  heart. 

^‘She  only  went  to  sleep  Just  as  usual.  Miss  Brownie,  and 
awoke  in  Heaven,"'  he  said,  gently,  with  his  kind  eyes  fixed  upon 
the  girl's  pale,  solemn  face ; and  she  heard  the  words  with  a 
sense  of  comfort  which  surprised  even  herself. 

am  so  glad,"  she  answered,  simply,  and  in  such  a touch- 
ing, self-forgetful  way,  that  it  almost  made  the  strong  man  weep 
for  her. 

‘‘  Glad  !"  he  repeated,  laying  his  hand  on  her  shoulder. 

Yes ; you  say  it  came  upon  her  like  a peaceful  sleep,  in- 
stead of  the  usual  way,  if  so,  it  was  for  her  the  blessedness  of 
death,  after  the  bitterness  of  life,  I am  glad  for  her,  but  I shall 
be  so  lonely.  Oh,  auntie  !" 

It  came  to  her  now  in  all  its  cruel  force,  and  she  had  no 
strength  to  resist  when  the  good  doctor  half  carried  her  from 
the  room,  and  laid  her  upon  her  own  bed,  crushed  and  heart- 
broken. 


58 


&TAKR3  AN^  LOST. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

STAKED  AND  LOST. 

How  the  next  few  days  passed  Brownie  never  knew. 

She  had  a dim  idea  of  having  had  interviews  with  the  under- 
taker, the  clergyman,  the  florist,  and  others,  pertaining  to  the 
last  sad  ceremonies  for  the  dead. 

She  had  submitted  to  the  dressmaker  to  have  her  mourning 
made,  and  had  answered  innumerable  questions  from  Mrs. 
Grimwood  and  the  servants ; but  it  all  seemed  like  a dream — a 
horrible  nightmare,  which,  holding  her  in  its  clutch,  made  the 
earth  to  seem  desolate,  the  sun  to  give  no  light,  the  flowers  to 
lose  their  brightness  and  fragrance,  and  her  hitherto  happy  ex- 
istence appear  almost  a blank. 

One  thing  she  remembered  doing  with  her  own  little  hands, 
and  had  experienced  a sad  pleasure  in  the  simple  service. 

In  ordering  the  rare  and  costly  flewers  which  were  to  deco^ 
rate  the  house,  she  had  included  a quantity  of  heliotrope  and 
tuberoses — the  flowers  which  Miss  Mehetabel  had  always  loved 
best  on  account  of  their  purity  and  fragrance. 

These  she  wove  into  a lovely  star,  and  laid  it  upon  the  elegant 
casket  above  the  pukeless  breast,  and  then  placed  a few  of  the 
feirest  and  sweetest  in  the  white  clasped  hands,  which  would 


STAKED  AND  LOST 


59 


nevt  ^cst  with  their  fond  and  gentle  touch  upon  her  head 
again 

It  was  all  over  at  last. 

There  were  no  near  relatives,  only  some  distant  cousins,  and 
these,  knowing  they  had  no  claim  upon  the  old  lady’s  money, 
did  not  deem  it  worth  their  while  to  come  to  the  funeral.  So 
Brownie  and  Aspasia,  who  had  proved  herself  a real  comfort  in 
these  days  of  trial,  sat  alone,  excepting  the  servants  and  a few 
intimate  acquaintances,  in  those  great  somber  rooms,  whik 
those  last  sad  words  were  spoken  above  the  dead. 

And  then  they  carried  her  forth  to  her  last  long  home,  and 
laid  her  beside  those  other  dear  ones,  who  had  been  gone  so 
many  years. 

It  seemed  to  Brownie  as  if  she  were  almost  the  only  one  liv- 
ing— as  if  all  the  w^orld  had  died  and  were  buried,  when  she 
returned  to  that  great  house  in  all  its  lonely  splendor. 

‘‘Oh,  Aspasia,’’  she  cried,  throwing  herself  into  Miss  Hunt- 
ington’s arms,  with  her  first  wild  burst  of  tears,  “what  shall  I 
do?  I have  nobody  in  the  world  now  to  love  me.” 

“Don’t  talk  so,  darling,”  she  said,  her  own  tears  flowing  in 
sympathy.  “I  love  you  better  than  any  one  else  in  the  world, 
and  I will  never  forsake  you.  ” 

She  little  knew  how  soon  her  words  would  be  put  to  the 
test. 

“I  know  you  love  me,  dear,  but  you  cannot  stay  with  me; 
you  will  soon  go  home,  where  you  have  a fond  father  and  moth- 
er, brothers  and  sisters,  while  I have  no  one.  I have  no  object 
in  life,  Aspasia,  now  that  auntie  is  gone,”  and  again  the  terr-^^i^t 
of  grief  rushed  forth. 


6o 


STAKED  AND  LOST 


Miss  Huntington  made  her  lie  down,  and  soothed  her  as  she 
would  a child.  With  her  own  dainty  hands  she  removed  her 
boots,  brought  a soft  pair  of  slippers  and  put  them  on,  then 
bathed  her  head,  and  worked  over  her  until  she  grew  calm 

i 

again. 

She  proposed  taking  her  back  with  her  to  Belmont  Park,  the 
name  of  her  father's  estate,  telling  her  she  should  stay  just  as 
long  as  she  liked,  and  that  she  would  never  get  lonely  there. 

Their  conversation  was  at  length  interrupted  by  a servant 
coming  to  tell  them  that  Miss  Douglas'  presence  was  required 
in  the  library  to  listen  to  the  reading  of  the  will. 

The  summons  made  the  poor  girl's  grief  burst  forth  afresh. 

‘^Oh,  auntie,  auntie!"  she  sobbed,  ^^your  money  will  be 
nothing  to  me  without  you — gold  without  love  is  worthless." 

Poor  Brownie!  she  did  not  know  what  v/as  coming  upon 
her. 

‘‘You  will  go  down  with  me,  Aspasia,"  she  said,  holding  out 
her  hand  to  her  friend  as  she  arose  to  obey  the  request. 

“Certainly,  dear,  if  you  wish,"  was  the  kind  reply,  and  th© 
two  friends  descended  to  the  library,  to  find  Miss  Mehetabel's 
lawyer,  the  family  doctor,  and  clergyman  awaiting  their  appear- 
ance. 

Brownie  greeted  them  with  a graceful  inclination  of  her  head, 
then  seated  herself  to  await  their  business. 

Reverend  Mr.  Ashley  approached  and  took  her  hand. 

“My  dear  Miss  Douglas,"  he  said,  and  his  voice  shook  with 
.sympathy  as  he  looked  into  her  sad  face,  “it  was  your  aunt's 
request  that  her  will  be  read  immediately  after  the  funeral  cer- 
emonies, and  as  our  good  friend,  the  doctor,  and  myself  were 


STAKED  AND  LOST 


6l 


witnesses  to  that  document,  were  invited  to  be  present  at 
the  reading  of  it.  ” 

Brownie  bowed.  She  could  not  speak,  for  the  tears  were 
choking  her  so. 

What  was  wealth  to  her  in  her  lonely  condition. 

She  knew  everything  was  willed  to  her,  for  Miss  Mehetabel 
had  told  her  so,  but  her  generous  little  heart  recoiled  from 
having  so  much,  when  there  was  no  one  but  herself  on  whom 
to  lavish  it. 

Mr.  Ashley  retired  to  a seat,  and  signified  to  Mr.  Conrad,  the 
lawyer,  that  they  were  ready  to  listen. 

He  took  up  the  legal-looking  document  from  the  table,  near 
which  he  was  sitting,  and  began  to  read. 

Everything,  as  she  had  expected,  was  given  to  Brownie,  ex- 
cepting a legacy  of  five  hundred  dollars  to  each  of  the  trusty 
servants,  who  had  been  with  her  so  many  years. 

All  the  plate,  the  house,  with  its  elegant  furnishings,  the 
stables,  with  its  fine  horses  and  carriages,  were  hers,  and  she 
privileged  to  choose  whom  she  liked  to  manage  her  affairs  i»- 
the  future. 

There  was  a long  silence  after  the  lawyer  ceased  reading. 

Brownie  sat  listless,  and  gazing  absently  out  of  the  window, 
and  feeling  so  strange  and  lonely,  as  if  some  great  burden  had 
suddenly  fallen  upon  her. 

^^Ahem!  ah — Miss  Douglas — will  you  kindly  give  me  your 
attention  for  a few  moments  asked  Mr.  Conrad,  breaking  in 
upon  her  reverie,  and  speaking  with  great  embarrassment 

She  started  violently. 


9z  STAKED  AND  LOST. 

« 

'‘Yes,  sir;  I beg  your  pardon  for  seeming  inattentive> she 
said,  and  the  color  leaped  into  her  face  for  a moment. 

She  waited  a few  moments,  but  he  seemed  suddenly  to  have 
become  as  absent-minded  as  she  had  been. 

She  glanced  up  at  him,  and  was  amazed  at  his  appearance, 
while  the  doctor  and  Mr.  Ashley  exchanged  wondering  glances. 

Mr.  Conrad  was  an  elderly  man  of  about  sixty ; his  hair  was 
gray,  and  his  face  was  wrinkled,  but  it  was  a noble  face  withal. 

At  this  moment  it  seemed  to  be  convulsed  with  pain. 

His  lips  were  drawn  into  a tight  line  across  his  teeth,  and 
were  almost  livid,  while  the  cords  stood  out  hard  and  knotted 
upon  his  forehead,  and  the  hand  which  held  the  will  trembled 
visibly. 

Brownie  forgot  herself  instantly  when  she  saw  his  evident 
suffering. 

“Mr.  Conrad,  are  you  ill.?  Let  me  call  James  to  get  you 
something,''  she  exclaimed,  half  rising  to  ring  the  bell. 

“No,  Miss  Douglas,  keep  your  seat.  My  illness  is  of  the 
mind,  not  of  the  body,"  he  replied,  in  tones  of  deepest  pain. 

Then,  quickly  rising,  he  went  over  and  stood  before  her, 
with  bowed  head,  and  hands  clenched,  as  if  he  were  struggling 
with  some  terrible  emotion. 

“Miss  Brownie,"  he  continued,  speaking  very  gently  and 
humbly,  “I  have  a very  humiliating  confession  to  make.  I 
pray  you,  when  you  have  heard  it,  to  judge  me  as  kindly  as 
you  can,  and  whatever  you  do  with  me  to  meet  the  claims  of 
justice,  if  you  will  o^y  say  on  your  own  part  that  you  forgive 
an  old  man,  it  will  Uke  the  heaviest  burden  of  my  life  from  my 
heart” 


STAKED  AND  LOST. 


63 


The  youM|^  f^ivl  regarded  him  with  wonder. 

She  could  not  understand  what  this  proud,  self-reliant  man, 
vrho  for  many  years  had  had  charge  of  all  her  aunt's  affairs, 
could  mean  by  speaking  in  this  humble,  broken  way  to  her. 

The  innocent,  confiding  look  in  her  large,  liquid  eyes  seemed 
t©  pierce  him  afresh. 

^ ‘‘You  wonder  at  my  words,"  he  went  on,  “and  yet  you  look 
trustingly  upon  me ; but  it  will  not  be  quite  so  when  I tell  you 
that  I have  betrayed  that  trust. " 

“Betrayed  my  trust!"  she  repeated,  not  comprehending  his 
words. 

“Yes,  betrayed  your  trust,  betrayed  your  aunt's  trust,  and 
played  the  villain  of  the  deep>est  dye.  Miss  Douglas,  I have 
made  a beggar  of  you  f* 

Had  a ball  of  lightning  exploded  in  their  midst  there  could 
not  have  been  greater  consternation  than  three  of  the  number 
present  expressed. 

Mr.  Conrad  had  intimated  to  the  doctor  and  clergyman  that 
he  had  an  unpleasant  disclosure  to  make,  but  they  had  not  been 
prepared  for  anything  quite  so  astounding  as  this. 

“Conrad,  man,  are  you  mad .?"  exclaimed  Dr.  Sargeant. 

“Surely,  my  friend,  you  do  not  mean  anything  so  bad  as 
you  have  stated,"  said  the  kind-hearted  clergyman,  in  grave 
t©ae«. 

“A  beggar!"  cried  Miss  Huntington,  she  alone  taking  in 
the  full  sense  of  the  word,  and  appalled  at  her  friend's  calamity. 

And  now  came  the  grand  struggle  between  that  young  lady's 
aristocratic  notions  and  her  genuine  love  for  Brownie* 

Which  would  conquer  ? 


^4 


STAKED  AND  LOST. 


But  Brownie  herself  sat  very  quiet,  with  her  little  handi 
clasped  idly  in  her  lap. 

She  had  heard  his  words,  and  she  knew  what  they  meant — 
the  lo^  of  home,  friends,  and  all  the  comforts  to  which  she 
had  been  accustomed  ever  since  she  could  remember;  yet  what 
did  it  amount  to,  compared  with  the  loss  of  her  only  loved 
one? 

‘‘Did  you  understand  me.  Miss  Douglas?”  asked  Mr.  Con- 
rad, somewhat  impatiently,  and  wondering  at  her  apathy,  while 
he  did  not  heed  the  questions  of  the  others. 

“Yes;  you  said  I — I should  not  have  any  property,”  she 
replied,  avoiding  the  harsh  words  he  had  used. 

“Good  God  I how  indifferent  you  are;  I said  I had  made 
you  a heggar.  Not  a pauper  in  the  streets  has  less  than  you 
will  have  when  the  debts  are  all  paid,”  he  cried,  sinking  into  a 
chair  by  her  side,  the  sweat  rolling  off  his  face. 

“Yes,  yes,  I know  what  you  mean,”  Brownie  said,  arousing 
herself  when  she  saw  how  distressed  he  appeared,  then  added  : 
“But  please,  Mr.  Conrad,  do  not  look  so — do  not  feel  so  badly 
about  it.  I know  auntie  trusted  you  fully,  and  I am  sure  it 
was  something  you  could  not  help ; I dare  say  I shall  not  mind 
it  so  very  much  when  I get  used  to  it,  ” she  concluded,  gently. 

The  stricken  lawyer  groaned  aloud.  He  had  been  prepared 
for  tears,  and  sobs,  and  censure ; and  here  the  noble  girl  was 
forgetting  all  her  own  wrong,  and  striving  to  comfort  him  for 
his  share  in  it  It  made  him  writhe  in  torture.  Brownie's 
tender  heart  could  not  see  him  suffer  thus  without  deep  sym- 
pathy. 

She  forget  all  about  her  own  sorrow.  She  had  known  and 


STAKED  AND  LOST. 


65 


respected  the  old  gentleman  from  her  earliest  remembrance. 
He  had  always  noticed  her  as  a child,  and  ever  had  a kind 
word  to  give  her  when  he  came  upon  business  to  her  aunt,  and 
she  had  grown  to  feel  toward  him  as  if  he  were  almost  one  of 
the  family.  She  now  arose,  and  gliding  to  his  side,  laid  her 
little  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

‘‘Dear  Mr.  Conrad,  will  you  plea^se  explain  this  disagreeable 
affair  to  me .?  I see  it  is  trouliling  you  very  much.  I do  not 
understand  much  about  business,  but  I will  listen  attentively, 
and  try  to  comprehend. 

“God  bless  you,  dear  child,  for  your  goodness  to  me,'^  he 
said,  taking  her  hand  in  one  of  his,  while  he  wiped  his  moist 
brow  with  the  other.  “I  do  not  deserve  it  from  you.  Yes, 
I will  explain  at  once,  and  have  this  dreadful  burden  off  my 
mind;  it  has  nearly  crushed  me  for  years.  You  know,  dear, 
that  I have  had  the  care  of  your  aunt's  property  for  the  last 
forty  years — in  fact,  nearly  ever  since  she  came  to  this  city  to 
live. " 

“Yes,  sir.'' 

“Well,  for  thirty  years  I was  faithful  to  my  trust — I would 
no  more  have  touched  a penny  of  her  money  to  appropriate  it 
unlawfully  than  I would  have  cut  my  right  hand  off.  Had  any 
one  told  me  then  that  to-day  I should  ht  a thief ^ I would  have 
felled  him  to  the  ground  and  spurned  him  with  my  foot.  But 
we  cannot  tell  what  we  will  do  under  certain  temptations.  Ten 
years  ago  a dear  friend  of  mine  died,  leaving  his  only  child  in 
my  care,  together  with  a property  of  fifty  thousand  dollars.  I 
invested  it  in  what  I believed  to  be  a sound  concern,  but  in  less 
than  a year  it  failed,  and  my  friend's  child  was  penniless. " 


STAICED  AND  LOST, 


‘'How  sorry  I am/'  was  Brownies  simple  comment,  and 
deeply  interested  in  the  lawyer's  tale. 

He  smiled  bitterly,  but  clasping  her  hand  more  firmly,  went 
on  : 

“I  then  did  something  which  was  not  right,  but  which  I 
thought  must  succeed,  and  everything  would  be  all  right 
again.  I felt  that  I was  entirely  to  blame  for  the  loss  of  my 
ward's  property,  and  that  I was  in  duty  bound  to  replace  it.  I 
had  no  ready  funds  of  my  own,  but  I knew  that  your  aunt, 
with  her  vast  wealth,  would  not  miss  fifty  thousand  dollars  for  a 
little  while,  and  I resolved  to  use  it — speculate  in  what  prom- 
ised to  be  a very  successful  operation,  hoping  thus  to  win  back 
a portion  at  least  of  what  I had  lost  for  my  ward.  I staked  it 
and  Iosif’ 

“Ah!"  ejaculated  the  clergyman,  with  a sorrowful  shake  of 
the  head. 

“Whew  1"  whistled  the  doctor. 

“Horrid  man!"  breathed  Miss  Huntington,  under  her 
breath. 

But  Brownie  only  nestled  a step  nearer  the  poor  man's  side. 

“Driven  desperate  by  this  unfortunate  circumstance,"  he 
went  on,  with  a deep  sigh,  “I  grew  reckless,  and  invested  a 
hundred  thousand  more  of  Miss  Douglas'  money,  but  again  I 
lost.  Then  a bank  where  I had  invested  a very  large  amount 
of  her  funds  suddenly  suspended  payment ; but  hoping  that  all 
would  come  out  right  by  and  by,  I kept  all  knowledge  of  the 
difficulty  from  her.  You  know  that  the  old  lady  loved  the 
good  things  of  this  life,  and  was  not  at  all  careful  of  the  dol- 
lars ; and  she  need  not  have  been,  had  1 been  faithful.  Bat  I 


STAKED  AiW  LOST. 


6^ 


continued  to  speculate  with  what  ready  money  I could  get  hold 
of,  and,  with  her  annual  expenditure,  her  thousands  have  melt- 
ed into  hundreds;  and  to-day,  when  she  thought  you  would 
inherit  at  least  a million,  I have  to  tell  you,  that  if  I pay  the 
debts  and  the  legacies  to  the  servants,  there  will  not  remain 
sufficient  to  feed  you  for  a year.  Yes,  Miss  Douglas,  in  the 
worst  sense  of  the  word,  I have  made  you  a beggar.  I,  who 
always  prided  myself  upon  my  integrity  and  my  incorruptibil- 
ity, have  forfeited  my  character  for  probity  and  honesty,  and 
stand  here  before  you  a criminal  worthy  to^ suffer  the  extent  of 
the  law.'' 

He  paused  for  a moment,  but  as  no  one  spoke,  he  con- . 
tinned : 

‘‘This  is  my  confession;  and  now  I surrender  myself  into 
your  hands,  to  do  with  me  as  you  will.  I do  not  offer  any  ex- 
cuse for  my  fault — it  was  wrong  from  beginning  to  end.  I had 
no  right  whatever  to  touch  a penny  of  your  aunt's  money.  I 
was  deeply  distressed  at  the  loss  of  my  ward's  property,  but  I 
ought  to  have  stopped  there.  However,  having  once  failed  of 
success  in  using  Miss  Douglas'  money,  I kept  on,  hoping,  in 
my  desperation,  that  some  favorable  turn  in  fortune's  wheel 
would  enable  me  to  replace  everything." 

There  was  an  awkward  silence  when  the  old  man  concluded. 

Dr.  Sargeant  and  Mr.  Ashley  were  horror-struck  at  the  reve- 
lation. 

It  had  been  deeply  humiliating  to  the  old  and  respected  law- 
yer to  make  this  confession  in  the  presence  of  these  witnesses, 
but  the  time  had  come  wher  the  state  of  affairs  could  no  loiv 
ger  be  concealed.  The  property  was  all  gone,  and  Miss  Doug- 


68 


STAKED  AND  LOST. 


las"  death  necessitated  a settlement  of  some  kind,  and  it  would 
have  to  come  out  that  her  niece  and  reputed  heiress  was  penni- 
less. The  house  and  everything  would  have  to  be  sold  to  pay 
the  outstanding  debts,  and  she  who  had  been  cradled  in  the 
lap  of  luxury  from  her  earliest  infancy,  must  now  go  forth  into 
the  cold  world,  to  buffet  with  its  storms  and  bitterness  alone. 

Brownie’s  face  was  very  grave  as  he  concluded,  and  all  but 
the  lawyer  were  watching  her  anxiously,  to  see  how  she  would 
bear  the  news. 

She  had  bent  her  whole  mind  to  the  recital,  and  compre-* 
bended  all  which  must  follow. 

She  knew  what  it  meant  to  be  poor,  for  she  had  seen  many 
poor  girls  toiling  for  their  daily  bread,  and  her  kind  and  gentle 
heart  had  prompted  her  to  aid  and  comfort  not  a few  on  their 
toilsome  way  heretofore. 

She  began  already  to  realize  the  care  that  had  thus  suddenly 
fallen  upon  her.  She  knew  that  henceforth  she  must  work  with 
her  hands  for  the  bread  which  she  ate ; and  during  the  lawyer’s 
Kory  she  had  changed  from  the  gay  and  light-hearted  girl  to 
the  grave  and  thoughtful  woman.  But  still  her  first  thought 
was  for  others. 

‘‘I  am  so  glad  auntie  did  not  know  of  this  be — before  she 
died,”  she  said,  her  lips  quivering  as  she  uttered  those  last 
words. 

Mr.  Conrad  looked  up  with  an  expression  of  bewilderment. 

‘Tt  would  have  mad^  her  so  unhappy,  you  know,  cn  my  ac- 
count,” Brownie  explained. 

The  lawyer’s  head  fell  upon  his  breast  again, 

‘‘What  will  you  do  with  me?”  he  asked,  wearily. 


STAKED  AND  LOST 


69 


'^What  will  I do  with  you,  Mr.  Conrad.?  I do  not  think  I 
clearly  understand  what  you  mean,”  she  answered,  with  a 
troubled  expression  on  her  sweet  face. 

‘‘You  know  that  the  law  takes  care  of  people  who  do  as  I 
have  done.  The  crime  of  embezzlement  is  no  light  one.” 

“Oh,  dear  Mr.  Conrad,  do  not  speak  so!  You  meant  to 
commit  no  crime ; you  only  wished  to  right  some  one  else's 
wrong.  It  was  not,  perhaps,  just  the  right  thing  to  do  with- 
out auntie’s  knowledge,  but  I can  do  nothing  with  you, 

only 

“Only?”  the  lawyer  asked,  raising  his  haggard  face,  and 
eagerly  reading  the  lovely  flushed  one  at  his  side. 

“ Only  to  be  very,  very  sorry  for  you,  my  friend,”  she  said, 
softly,  and  with  a little  quivering  smile. 

Mr.  Conrad  looked  upon  her  as  if  she  had  been  an  angel — 
wonder,  reverence,  awe,  all  expressed  upon  his  countenance. 
Then,  with  a deep  groan,  the  strong  man  bowed  his  head  and 
wept  the  bitterest  tears  he  had  ever  shed  in  his  life. 

He  could  have  borne  to  hear  the  felon’s  doom  pronounced 
upon  him  with  the  face  of  a stole ; but  this  sublime  pity  and 
forgiveness  caused  him  to  forget  his  mannood,  and  made  a child 
•f  him. 


70 


LOVE  HAD  CONQUERED  PRIDE. 


CHAPTER  VIL 

LOVE  HAD  CONQUERED  PRIDE. 

Dr.  Sargeant  now  came  forward,  saying : 

‘^Miss  Douglas,  do  you  realize  how  serious  this  matter  is? 
Have  you  considered  what  your  position  will  b©  in  the  world 
henceforth  Y' 

He  did  not  like  to  have  the  lawyer  let  off  so  easily. 

realize,  doctor,  that  I am  no  longer  an  heiress  to  great 
wealth,  as  every  one  has  thus  far  supposed — that  there  is  no 
longer  a life  of  idleness  and  pleasure  for  me.  On  the  contrary, 
I must  go  out  into  the  world  and  work  for  my  living,"'  Brownie 
replied,  lifting  her  grave  eyes  to  the  doctor's  face,  while  there 
was  a touch  of  dignity  in  her  manner  which  he  had  never  seen 
before. 

He  glanced  compassionately  at  the  little  hand,  with  its  pretty 
pink  fingers,  which  hung  among  the  folds  of  her  dress,  and 
sighed. 

It  seemed  a hard  lot  for  this  delicate  girl,  who  had  never 
known  aught  of  hardship,  and  whose  every  wish  had  thus  far 
been  gratified. 

“Mr.  Conrad,"  he  continued,  turning  to  the  lawyer,  “this 
is  a very  grave  matter.  How  do  your  own  affairs  stand  ?" 

“Much  the  same  as  Miss  Douglas'.  I have  nothing  in  the 


LOVE  HAD  CONQUERED  PRIDE. 


71 


world  except  what  I earn  from  day  to  day.  If  I had  money  of 
my  own,  do  you  suppose  I would  have  touched  any  one  else’s 
he  asked,  a flash  of  indignation  kindling  his  eyes,  and  his  fin5 
|brm  for  a moment  becoming  erect. 

“Pardon  me.  No.  But  who  is  this  ward  of  yours?'' 

“Miss  Emily  Elliot." 

“Where  is  she  now?" 

“In  my  own  family.  She  has  never  known  of  her  loss;  V 
have  provided  for  her  every  need  and  want  by  the  labor  of  my 
own  hands.  I never  intend  that  she  shall  know  of  it  while  J 
live — if  I am  taken  away  it  will  have  to  come  out. 

“And,  Miss  Douglas,"  turning  eagerly  to  Brownie,  “if  you 
do  not  utterly  hate  me  for  the  trouble  which  I have  brought 
upon  you,  will  you,  too,  come  to  my  home  and  let  me  provide 
the  comforts  of  life  for  you  ? I can  easily  do  that ; I have  no, 
one  but  my  wife  and  Miss  Elliot,  and  my  business  will  give  me 
enough  to  support  you  all  comfortably." 

“It  is  well  thought  of,  Mr,  Conrad,"  said  Mr.  Ashley,  ap. 
provingly. 

He,  also,  could  not  bear  the  idea  of  that  young  girl  working 
for  her  living  or  going  out  into  the  cold  world  uncared  for. 

“Oh,  Mr.  Ashley,  and  you,  doctor,  you  can  never  know  the 
suffering  which  this  thing  has  brought  upon  me,"  Mr.  Conrad 
continued,  rising,  and  pacing  the  floor  nervously.  “I  thought 
I was  an  honorable  man — I am  an  honorable  man  at  heart 
now,  but  my  zeal  to  do  well  by  my  friend's  child,  my  zeal  that 
no  one  should  suffer  who  had  placed  their  interests  in  my  keep- 
ing, has  led  me  to  commit  a wrong  for  which  I can  never  atone. 


72 


LOVE  HAD  CONQUERED  PRIDE. 


Had  it  not  been  that  others  were  dependent  upon  me,  my  life 
would  have  paid  the  forfeit  years  ago.” 

The  clergyman  went  up  to  him  and  took  him  by  the  hand. 

My  friend,  do  not  grieve  thus  despairingly  over  what  you 
eannot  now  help.  ^ I am  deeply  pained  at  what  you  have  told 
us,  but  my  respect  for  your  moral  character  is  not  diminished. 
It  has  been  a mistake  of  the  head,  not  of  the  heart;  and  I 
should  not  hesitate,  if  it  were  necessary  or  expedient,  to  place 
my  own  interests  in  your  keeping  to-day.  ” 

*‘God  bless  you  !”  returned  Mr.  Conrad,  deeply  affected. 

‘‘No,  you  feel  your  error  too  deeply  ever  to  be  guilty  of  the 
same  again.  ” 

“If  that  bank  only  had  not  suspended  payment.  Miss  Doug- 
las might  still  have  had  a competence;  but  everything  has 
seemed  to  be  against  me.  But,  Miss  Brownie,”  he  added, 
turning  again  to  the  sorrowful  girl,  “you  have  not  yet  answered 
my  question.  Will  you  come  to  me  and  let  me  take  care  of 
you 

“No,  dear  friend;  you  have  enough  upon  your  mind  and 
heart  now,  and  I cannot  add  to  your  burdens.  ” 

“It  will  not.  I pray  you,  give  me  the  satisfaction  of  doing 
this  much  toward  averting  the  consequences  of  my  wrong,”  he 
pleaded,  earnestly. 

“My  dear,”  interposed  the  clergyman,  impressively,  “I  ad- 
vise you,  by  all  means,  to  accept  Mr.  Conrad's  hospitality  and 
protection.  You  are  very  young,  and  not  at  all  fitted  to  do  bat- 
tle with  the  world.  It  will  never  do  for  you  to  tiy  and  support 
yourself;  you  are  entirely  ignorant  of  the  ways  of  the  world.  ” 

“Mr.  Ashley,  there  are  hundreds,  yes,  thousands,  as  young 


LOr£  HAD  CONQUERED  PRIDE. 


73 


and  even  more  delicate  than  I,  wh®  not  only  support  them- 
selves, but  assist  in  maintaining  their  father  and  mother,  broth- 
ers and  sisters,"'  returned  Brownie.  ‘‘I  do  not  claim  to  be  of 
finer  clay  than  my  unfortunate  sisters. " 

‘‘But  they  have  been  brought  up  to  it/"  interposed  Mr. 
Conrad. 

“Some  of  them  have,  and  some  have  not  God  has  given 
me  health;  and,  thanks  to  my  aunt,  who  took  infinite  pains 
with  me,  I have  an  excellent  education;  and,  gentlemen,  I 
really  feel  competent  to  take  care  of  myself,""  the  young  girl  re- 
turned, proudly,  yet  with  a more  cheerful  look  than  she  had 
worn  since  Miss  Mehetabers  death. 

“But  it  would  give  Mr.  Conrad  infinite  satisfaction,  I know, 
to  think  he  was  saving  you,  in  a measure,  from  the  cruel  con- 
sequences of  his  act, "'  said  Dr.  Sargeant. 

“I  appreciate  Mr.  Conrad  s kindness,  and  am  truly  grateful  to 
him,  but  I should  do  violence  to  my  own  feelings  if  I allowed 
myself  to  be  dependent  upon  any  one"s  bounty  while  I have 
health  and  strength, ""  and  her  delicate  &ce  flushed  to  her  very 
brow  as  she  said  it. 

In  vain  they  pleaded  and  urged,  both  the  clergyman  and  the 
doctor  offering  her  a home  with  them,  if  she  would  not  go  with 
Mr.  Conrad.  She  remained  firm,  and  they  were  filled  with  ad- 
miration at  the  strength  of  character  which  she  displayed. 

“ I will  try  for  a while,""  she  said,  seeing  how  bitterly  disap- 
pointed Mr.  Conrad  was ; “and  if  I fail,  I shall  know  where  to 
come  for  a home."' 

“You  are  not  strong;,  you  will  break  down  under  it,''  h^ 

said,  gloomily. 


74 


LOVE  HAD  CONQUERED  PRIDE. 


“ I think  not/'  was  the  cheerful  response.  have  always 
gympathized  with  these  poor  girls,  and  now  I shall  know,  by 
actual  experience,  what  their  life  is.  I feel,  dear  friends,  that 
this  is  a lesson  in  life,  through  which  God  intends  to  teach  me, 
and  work  out  for  me  some  great  good.” 

‘^What  will  you  do?”  the  lawyer  asked,  while  great  tears 
rolled  down  his  wrinkled  cheeks. 

‘‘I  do  not  know  yet;  I shall  have  to  consider  that  point 
a while.  ” \ 

Then,  after  a few  minute's  thought,  and  pitying  his  distress, 
she  added  : 

‘‘At  all  events,  whatever  I undertake,  if  I fail,  I promise 
you  I will  not  refuse  the  home  you  offer  me ; and  if  I need  a 
friend  I shall  always  know  where  to  find  him.  ” 

She  held  out  her  hand  to  him  with  a sweet,  winning  smile, 
and  again  the  strong  man  broke  down,  weeping  like  a child, 
and  there  was  not  a dry  eye  in  the  room  excepting  her  own. 

“What  a foolish  set  we  are  !”  exclaimed  the  doctor,  after  a 
vigorous  blowing  of  the  nose.  “This  young  lady  shames  us 
all.  Succeed  ? Of  course  she'll  succeed,  and  I say  God  bless 
her — she  is  an  honor  to  the  name  which  she  bears.” 

Brownie  felt  prouder  at  the  good  doctor's  compliment,  than 
•he  had  ever  felt  in  her  life  before. 

“ I will  be  an  honor  to  the  name,”  she  thought  to  herself, 
and  her  eye  grew  brighter,  and  her  form  more  proudly  erect 
with  the  resolve. 

After  a few  more  casual  remarks  the  gentlemen  took  their  de- 
parture, and  the  two  girls  were  once  more  alone, 

“Brownie  Douglas,  you  surely  did  not  mean  what  you  told 


LOVE  HAD  CONQUERED  PMDE. 


75 


Mr.  Conrad  exclaimed  Aspasia  Huntington,  the  moment  the 
door  closed  after  them. 

told  him  quite  a number  of  things ; to  what  in  particular 
do  you  refer 

‘‘Why,  working  for  your  own  living,  to  be  sure.'' 

“Certainly,  I meant  it ; there  remains  nothing  else  forme 
to  do." 

’ “But  Mr.  Conrad  offered  to  relieve  you  from  all  anxiety 
about  your  future.  Why  did  you  not  accept  his  offer 

“ What ! and  degrade  myself  by  becoming  dependent  on  his 
bounty,  when  he  already  has  more  than  his  heart  and  hands 
full } Never  !"  exclaimed  the  young  girl,  indignantly,  her  cheeks 
flushing  a vivid  crimson. 

“ I’m  sure  it  is  no  more  than  your  right,  after  his  wronging 
you  out  of  your  fortune  as  he  has,"  returned  Aspasia,  with  a 
pout. 

“The  poor  man  meant  me  no  wrong,  and  would  replace 
every  penny  of  it  to-day,  if  he  could  do  so  by  forfeiting  every- 
thing he  holds  dear  in  life,  and  I bear  him  no  ill-will  But 
while  I have  nothing  legally  my  own,  and  have  health  and 
ability,  I will  never  be  dependent  upon  any  one  but  myself '' 
Brownie  said,  haughtily. 

. “But  you  will  lose  caste." 

“Perhaps;  but  I shall  not  lose  my  character  nor  my  self- 
respect,"  was  the  very  quiet  though  cold  reply. 

“ Your  friends  will  forsake  you." 

“They  are  not  worthy  the  name,  then,  nor  a regret,"  and 
the  delicati^  curled  with  infinite  scorn,  yet  there  was 


LOVE  HAD  CONQUERED  PRIDE, 


the  feintest  perceptible  quiver  upon  them,  and  a wistful  look  in 
the  dark,  beautiful  eyes. 

Would  Aspasia  go  with  the  rest  ? 

Do  you  not  care  if  you  lose  them  ?"  Aspasia  asked,  eagerly, 
have  had  many  kind  and  dear  ones,  but  if  they  have 
loved  my  prospective  fortune  more  than  they  have  loved  me,  the 
sooner  I find  it  out  the  better.  At  all  events,  this  calamity,  if 
it  can  be  so  termed,  will  show  me  the  true  and  the  false."' 

‘‘And  you  will  not  feel  degraded  to  go  out  and  earn  your 
pittance,  perhaps  a dollar  a day,  with  your  own  hands.?" 

“No.  My  hands  may  grow  hard  and  rough  with  the  toil, 
but  my  heart  will  be  the  same.  It  cannot  take  from  me  my 
dignity,  nor  harm  my  intellect.  How,  then,  will  it  degrade 
me,  Aspasia.?" 

“There  are  those  who  will  consider  it  a degradation, " re- 
turned Miss  Huntington,  evasively.  “ How  will  it  move  you 
to  find  that  those  who  have  always  courted  your  favor  will  shun 
you  in  the  future .?" 

A smile  of  contempt  swept  over  Miss  Douglas"  beautifui 
fece. 

“I  should  be  more  grieved  over  their  shallow  folly  thaa  for 
my  own  misfortune,""  she  said,  in  a voice  of  scorn. 

“ Brownie  Douglas,  you  are  a splendid  girl,  and  I love  you  a 
thousand  times  more  at  this  moment  than  I ever  did  in  my  life 
before.  I am  prouder  of  you  as  a friend,  prouder  of  you  with- 
out a penny  to-day,  than  I was  yesterday  when  I thought  you 
vorth  a million !"  exclaimed  Miss  Huntington,  impulsively,  as 
ihe  threw  her  arms  around  her  friend  and  embraced  her  fer- 
vently* 


LOVE  HAD  CONQUERED  PRIDE, 


77 


This  broke  Brownie  down  completely,  and  she  sobbed  wiidlj^ 
for  a few  minutes. 

‘‘Dear  Asia,'"  she  said,  at  length,  wiping  her  tears,  “I 
thought  surely,  when  you  were  talking  about  caste  and  the  deg- 
redation  of  toil,  that  you  were  speaking  your  own  thoughts.  We 
have  loved  each  other  so  well,  that  the  idea  of  losing  your 
friendship  was  veiy  painful  to  me. " 

“Forgive  me  if  I for  the  moment  pained  you.  I have  read 
of  people  being  above  such  feelings  upon  the  loss  of  all  their 
earthly  goods,  but  I never  believed  it,  and  I was  testing  you.  I 
truly  prize  you  more  in  your  misfortune  than  I ever  did  before. 
You  have  taught  me  a lesson  to-day  which  I shall  not  soon  for- 
get. Your  example  toward  the  poor  and  unfortunate  has  always 
troubled  my  conscience,  and  henceforth  I shall  shorten  my 
trains  and  extend  my  charities." 

“ I am  glad  to  hear  you  say  this,  Asia,,  for  you  have  the 
means  at  your  command  to  do  great  good,"  replied  Brownie, 
her  face  now  radiant  at  this  proof  of  true  friendship. 

Love  had  conquered  pride  ! 

“Well,  but  Fm  afraid  the  lesson  will  not  be  lasting  if  you 
do  not  follow  it  up  with  others,  and  so,  my  darling,  I am  going 
to  propose  that  you  go  home  to  stay  with  me.  No,  you  needn't 
refuse,"  she  continued,  putting  her  hand  playfully  over  Brownie's 
lips,  “on  the  score  of  being  dependent,  for  you  know  papa  has 
plenty,  and  would  never  feel  it  in  the  world.  He  would  be  de- 
lighted, for  he  has  always  admired  you  intensely." 

“Aspasia,  I know  it  will  hurt  you  deeply  to  have  me  refuse 
this  kindness,  but  indeed  it  cannot  be,  dear.  My  mind  has 
been  made  up  from  the  first  to  earn  my  bread  ‘ by  the  sweat  of 


78 


LOVE  HAD  CONQUERED  PRIPE. 


my  brow/  and  nothing  can  change  it,”  Brownie  answered,  de» 
cidedly. 

'‘Will  you  not  come  if  papa  insists  upon  it  ?” 

“No,  dear.” 

•'But  if  he  desires  you  to  come  as  a companion  and  a h«lp 
lo  me  ?”  urged  Aspasia,  earnestly. 

Brownie  laughed  aloud  at  the  idea,  in  spite  of  her  sadness. 

“A  companion,  Aspasia,  when  your  home  is  already  full !” 

“Well,  but  you  know  Jennie  is  soon  to  be  married,  and 
Lina  needs  some  one  to  look  after  her  French  and  music.  You 
would  be  just  the  one,  and  we  would  have  such  delightful  times 
^gether.” 

“It  w^ould  be  all  a mere  form.  I know  I should  not  be  re- 
ceived or  treated  as  a governess  or  companion  in  your  father's 
house,  and  I should  live  a life  of  idleness  and  pleasure  as  much 
as  heretofore.  No  ; I have  said  I will  work,  and  work  I will! 
and  if  all  my  friends  prove  themselves  as  true  as  you  have,  1 
shall  only  be  so  much  the  happier,  ” was  the  firm  reply. 

Miss  Huntington  knew  it  would  be  useless  to  say  more,  and 
tuere  the  matter  rested  for  the  present 


EARNING  HEi^  OH^N  LIVING. 


79 


CHAPTER  VIIL 

EARNING  HER  OWN  LIVING. 

It  blipame  noised  abroad  that  Miss  Meta  Douglas,  the 
bvjress,  wa«  no  more  than  any  other  common  mortal,  since  her 
wealth  had  taken  to  itself  wings  and  flown  away. 

She  had  been  obliged  to  descend  from  the  golden  pedestal  on 
rhich  she  had  been  elevated  for  so  long,  and  was,  therefore, 
treated  accordingly.  But  with  the  "'spirit  of  heroes'"  strong 
within  her,  she  took  no  notice  of  it,  other  than  to  curl  her 
pretty  lips  with  scorn,  and  then  went  on  the  even  tenor  of  her 
way. 

Her  greatest  trial  was  that  the  dear  old  home,  with  all  its 
precious  furnishings,  around  which  so  many  tender  associations 
clustered^  must  go  under  the  auctioneer  s hammer. 

It  seemed  as  if  her  heart  must  break,  when,  as  the  last  day 
before  the  sale  came,  she  went  from  room  to  room  to  take  a 
feirewell  view  of  everything,  and  gather  up  the  few  precious 
treasures  which  Mr.  Conrad  had  told  her  she  was  at  liberty  to 
take. 

Asposia  had  proved  herself  a friend  indeed  during  her  friend's 
trial. 

She  had  insisted  upon  remaining  with  her  until  everything 
was  over,  and  donning  a simple  calico  dress,  minus  either  ruffle 
or  train,  she  superintended  with  her  own  fair  hands  the  packing 


So 


EARNING  HER  OWN  LIVING. 


©f  valuable  books,  statuettes,  bronzes,  and  ornaments,  which 
she  knew  were  so  dear  to  Brownie's  tender  heart. 

And  when,  at  length,  the  last  day  arrived,  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, before  even  the  servants  were  astir,  she  had  slipped  down 
stairs,  and,  moving  noiselessly  from  room  to  room,  had  tacked  a 
card  bearing  the  words  ‘‘sold"  upon  several  of  the  finest  paint- 
ings, which  she  knew  Miss  Mehetabel  had  highly  prized,  from 
the  fact  of  their  having  been  brought  over  from  the  old  country. 

Her  father  had  given  her  permission  and  carte  blanche  to  per- 
form this  delicate  service  for  her  friend. 

But  it  was  all  over  at  last. 

Eveiything  was  sold,  and  the  house  was  left  bare  and  deso- 
late. 

Aspasia  had  gone,  and  Brownie  was  alone. 

The  debts  were  all  paid,  also  the  bequests  to  the  servants, 
which  Brownie  had  insisted  upon,  although  strongly  urged  to 
invest  the  money  for  herself. 

“No,"  she  said,  decidedly;  “auntie  wished  them  to  have 
it — they  have  been  very  faithful,  and  I desire  her  wishes  to  be 
strictly  adhered  to." 

Accordingly,  Mr.  Conrad  was  obliged  to  do  her  bidding, 
and  then,  with  a sigh  of  despair,  placed  two  hundred  dollars, 
all  that  remained  of  a fortune  of  a million,  in  her  little  handa 

“Why,  I feel  quite  rich  1"  she  exclaimed,  merrily,  as,  after 
counting  it  over,  she  looked  up  and  saw  his  quivering  lip. 

With  a mighty  effort  he  swallowed  the  sobs  which  nearly 
broke  forth,  and  managed  to  say  ; 

“Now,  dear  child,  you  will  come  home  with  me  for  a while. 
Mrs.  Conrad  desires  it,  and  Emily  is  lonely/ 


JSARNING  HER  ©JVN  LIVING. 


8l 


‘‘Thank  you,  dear  Mr.  Conrad,  I cannot,  as  I have  promised 
to  be  in  New  York  to-morrow  morning,"'  she  answered,  with  an 
air  of  business  which  would  have  amused  him  had  not  his  heart 
been  so  full. 

“In  New  York  to-morrow  morning  T"  he  ejaculated,  in  as- 
tonishment. 

“Yes,  I have  an  engagement  there.” 

“An  engagement?  May  I ask  of  what  nature?”  and  he  felt 
hurt  that  she  had  not  consulted  him  regarding  her  movements 
for  the  future. 

“Certainly.  I saw  an  advertisement  a week  ago  for  one 
hundred  girls  to  work  on  fancy  straws.  I have  always  been  be- 
witched over  fancy  straw  work,  so  I wrote,  asking  for  a situa- 
tion.” 

“ My  child,  why  did  you  not  consult  with  me  ?” 

“ Because,  my  friend,  I know  that  you  are  already  nearly  dis- 
tracted, and  I was  resolved  to  begin  to  depend  upon  myself  at 
once.  Yesterday  I received  a letter,  telling  me  to  come  on 
immediately,  and  I telegraphed  that  I would  arrive  to-morrow 
morning.” 

“But  you  have  no  friends  there,  and  where  will  you  make  it 
your  home  ?”  he  asked,  in  dismay,  yet  admiring  the  resiolution 
•xpressed  in  her  bright  eye  and  flushed  face. 

“There  is  a boarding-house  connected  with  the  establishment 
for  the  accommodation  of  those  who  work  in  the  factory,  and  I 
shall  board  there  for  the  present.” 

She  spoke  hurriedly ; the  prospect  was  not  a pleasant  one, 
even  to  her  sanguine  heart 

“ Miss  Douglas,  this  is  the  height  of  folly.  You  working  in 


82 


EARNING  HER  OWN  LIVING. 


a straw  factory,  and  boarding  in  a third-class  boarding-house  I 
What  do  you  suppose  your  aunt  would  say  r asked  the  lawyer, 
in  despair. 

"'Mr.  Conrad,  I do  not  believe  it  would  be  very  wrong  in 
me  to  say  that  I am  very  glad  auntie  is  not  here  to  know  any- 
thing about  it.  There  was  a good  deal  of  sorrow  in  her  life, 
and  it  is  a relief  to  me  that  she  went  home  before  this  thing 
came  upon  us,”  Brownie  answered,  solemnly,  yet  with  lips  that 
quivered  painfully.  "But,”  she  added,  after  a moment’s  fight- 
ing with  herself  for  self-control,  "I  am  young  and  strong,  and 
I can  bear  this,  since  it  is  sent  upon  me.  However,  we  will  not 
talk  any  more  about  it,  please,  since  my  mind  is  made  up.  I 
will  write  you,  and  let  you  know  of  my  safe  arrival,  and  I shall 
be  happy  to  hear  from  you  occasionally,  if  you  can  spare  the 
time.  It  would  seem  as  if  I had  some  one  in  the  world  to  care 
for  me  a little ; and,  Mr.  Conrad,  it  is  just  a little  hard  to  break 
away  so  suddenly  from  the  old  life  and  the  old  friends.” 

A little  hard ! 

Did  he  not  know  it  ? Did  he  not  feel  it  ? He  was  heart- 
rick.  His  whole  soul  rebelled  against  the  cruel  fate  which 
willed  it  so,  and  against  his  own  rash  wickedness  which  had 
brought  her  to  it.  And  then  to  see  how  she  clung  to  him  as  to 
almost  the  only  friend  she  had  ! — it  touched  him  to  the  core. 

"Write  to  you,  child  } Indeed  I will,  and  anything  else  in 
the  world  that  you  will  let  me  do  for  you.  And,  Miss  Doug- 
las, I shall  strain  every  effort  in  your  behalf,  and  just  as  fest  as 
I can  accumulate  anything  I shall  invest  it  in  some  safe  place 
to  your  account.  Once  more — can  you  forgive  me  for  bring- 
ing you  to  this  T'  he  sobbed,  wringing  her  hand. 


EARNING  HER  OWN  LIVING, 


83 


‘^Surely  I can,  my  friend,  and  let  us  try  to  feel  that  a higher 
power  than  that  of  earth  ordained  this,'^  she  answered,  sweetly. 
**  Let  us  feel  that  there  is  a lesson  in  this  trial  for  us  both.” 

He  bade  her  farewell  as  she  took  her  seat  in  the  train  that 
Was  to  bear  her  away,  .feeling  worse  than  any  condemned  crim- 
inal who  had  been  sentenced  to  hard  labor  for  life.  It  nearly 
drove  him  wild  that  she  would  not  let  him  care  for  her — that 
she  must  go  forth  unprotected  into  the  world  to  earn  the  bread 
she  ate,  and  he  was  utterly  powerless  to  prevent  it. 

>|c  :|c  >({  . 

Never  was  there  a more  lonely  or  heart-sick  girl  than  Brownie 
Douglas  when  she  entered  the  office  of  Ware  & Coolidge  the 
next  morning,  and  presented  her  card,  and  the  letter  she  had 
received  from  them  engaging  her  to  come  into  their  employ^ 

She  had  arrived  in  New  York  late  the  night  previous,  and 
taken  a room  at  a hotel  where  she  had  once  stopped  with  Miss 
Douglas ; but  the  loneliness  of  her  situation  had  driven  sleep 
from  her  eyes,  and  this  in  itself  had  not  prepared  her  to  en- 
counter the  cold  stare  of  strangers. 

‘‘Do  you  wish  to  see  any  one,  miss?”  asked  a clerk^  as  she 
entered  the  office,  and  bestowing  a bold  stare  of  admiration 
upon  her  lovely  face. 

“I  wish  to  see  Mr.  Coolidge,  if  you  please,”  Brownie  an- 
swered, with  cold  dignity,  yet  a hot  flush  arose  to  her  cheek  at 
his  look  and  manner. 

“Ah,  yes,  certainly.  Walk  this  way,”  and  the  dandy  led  her 
into  an  inner  office,  where  a man  of  about  forty-five  sat  reading 
hi*  paper. 


84 


EARNING  HER  OWN  LIVING, 


‘‘Mr.  Coolidge,  a young  lady  to  see  you,  sir,''  the  young 
man  said,  and,  with  another  insolent  stare,  bowed  himself  out. 

The  gentleman  immediately  came  forward,  and  Brownie  gave 
him  her  card  and  the  letter. 

“Ah,  yes.  Miss  Meta  Douglas,"  he  said,  pleasantly,  reading 
the  name,  while  his  quick  eye  ran  over  her  dainty  figure  from 
head  to  foot,  taking  in  her  beauty  and  expensive  apparel  at  a 
glance.  “You  understand  the  business,  I suppose.  What  de- 
partment would  you  prefer  to  work  in  ?" 

“No,  sir,  I know  nothing  whatever  about  the  business;  I 
have  come  to  learn, " she  answered,  frankly  and  simply. 

The  gentleman  gave  her  a look  of  surprise,  then  a smile  of 
amusement  curled  his  lips. 

He  was  quick  to  see  that  she  knew  nothing  of  the  rough 
ways  of  the  world — that'  she  had  been  born  and  bred  to  better 
things.  Her  quiet,  dignified,  yet  graceful  manner,  her  rich 
dress,  her  whole  appearance,  bespoke  the  refined  and  polished 
lady,  and  he  comprehended  her  situation  at  once. 

“ My  dear  young  lady,"  he  said,  a trifle  embarrassed,  “there 
is  some  mistake  about  this.  We  never  employ  any  but  expe- 
rienced hands.  The  fall  work  is  coming  on  rapidly,  and  we 
need  those  who  can  go  right  into  it  without  any  showing  or 
teaching.  Did  not  the  advertisement  say  ‘none  but  expe- 
rienced hands  need  apply  V " 

“Yes,  sir,"  Brownie  replied,  with  a sinking  heart;  “but  I 
thought  it  might  be  only  a mere  form  ; and  as  I am  very  quick 
to  learn  anything,  and  necessity  has  suddenly  compelled  me  to 
labor  for  my  living,  I thought  I would  apply  for  the  easiest 
work  I could  find." 


EARNING  HER  OWN  LIVING. 


85 


'‘D©  you  think  straw-sewing  easy  work?''  Mr.  Cooiidge 
3»ked,  with  a genial  smile,  and  deeply  interested  in  the  fair 
stranger. 

always  thought  it  very  pretty  work,  and  judged  it  easy,^’ 
she  answered,  naively. 

''Have  you  relatives  living  in  New  York?"  Mr.  Cooiidge 
asked,  thoughtfully. 

"I  have  no  relatives,  excepting  very  distant  ones,"  and  the 
sad  tones  touched  him. 

"Excuse  me  for  asking  the  question,"  he  added,  courteous- 
ly, "but  I feared  if  you  remained  with  us,  the  accommodations 
in  the  boarding-house  might  not  be  pleasant  ior  you,  and  I 
hoped  you  had  some  other  place  to  which  to  go. " 

Too  well  he  knew  of  the  meager  fare,  the  close,  hot  rooms, 
and  hard  beds  which  were  provided  for  the  factory  help. 

"Thank  you,"  Brownie  answered,  quietly,  "but  if  you 
kindly  consent  to  my  staying,  the  boarding-house  will  dr 
well  for  me  as  for  the  others  whom  you  employ." 

He  regarded  her  keenly  for  a moment,  hardly  f mowing 
whether  she  intended  any  reflections  upon  the  firm  I^gardii^ 
the  accommodations  which  they  had  provided  for  help,  or 
whether  she  was  indifferent  concerning  the  mat^*.  But  she 
stood  there  so  quiet  and  lady-like,  so  uncop^ous  that  iier 
words  had  been  a sharp  reproof,  that  he  was  reassured. 

He  knew  from  her  appearance  that  she  had  never  labored  a 
day  in  her  life.  He  knew,  also,  that  notliing  but  the  sternest 
necessity  could  have  driven  one  like  her  to  manual  toil,  and  his 
really  kind  heart  was  interested,  and  f t h« 
C0uld  do  for  her. 


86 


EAl^NING  HER  OWN  LIVING. 


‘‘Miss  Douglas,  I think  I will  give  you  a trial  and  see  what 
you  can  do,  although  it  is  not  our  custom  to  employ  green 
hands.  If  you  will  allow  me  to  be  the  judge  of  what  you  will 
learn  the  most  readily,  I will  show  you  to  that  department  at 
•nee. " 

“Certainly,  and  thank  you.^ 

The  brown  eyes  brightened,  the  sad,  tired  face  brightened  up  ^ 
into  new  beauty.  He  saw  it,  and  was  glad  he  had  broken  over 
the  rules  for  her  sake. 

“Come  this  way,  then." 

He  opened  a door  opposite  the  one  by  which  she  had  en- 
tered the  office,  and  led  her  into  a long  room  where  a hundred 
firls  sat  at  tables,  their  hands  flying  back  and  forth  upon  the 
hats  and  bonnets,  as  if  their  very  existence  depended  upon  the 
number  of  stitches  which  they  could  set  in  a minute ; as  it  did, 
poor  things  ! 

“This  is  the  wiring  room,"  explained  Mr.  Coolidge,  “and  I 
think  you  could  learn  to  do  this  work  more  easily  than  any 
other  ; you  are  not  strong  enough  to  run  a machine,  and  your 
fingers  are  too  tender  to  finish  off  the  tips, " and  he  glanced  at 
the  delicate  hands  from  which  she  had  drawn  her  gloves. 

“Machines!  Are  hats  and  bonnets  made  by  machinery .?" 
»he  exclaimed,  in  surprise. 

“ Yes,"  and  he  smiled  at  her  ignorance,  then  asked  ; “ Do 

you  think  you  would  like  to  work  here  ?" 

Surely  here  was  a new  departure. 

Whoever  knew  of  the  proud  and  aristocratic  W.  W.  Coolidge 
asking  an  applicant  if  she  would  lik^  to  work  here  or  there  be- 


EARmNG  HER  OWN  LIVING,  87 

fore?  It  was  usually  ‘'give  her  machine  No.  43/ or  ‘‘send 
her  up  to  the  finishing  room/'  or  "put  her  to  wiring." 

But  the  gentlenaan  recognized  his  equal  in  Miss  Douglas, 
And  involuntarily  treated  her  accordingly. 

‘‘Yes/'  Brownie  answered,  ‘‘and  I think  I can  learn  veiy 
readily. " 

Her  quick  eyes  had  been  watching  every  movement  of  the 
girls  near  which  they  stood,  and  she  felt  as  if  she  could  almost 
wire  a hat  without  any  assistance.  She  was  soon  undeceived, 

k 

however. 

‘‘I  presume  you  do  not  care  to  begin  to-day?"  Mr.  Coolidge 
-emarked,  after  a few  moments. 

“Yes,  sir,  please,  if  it  is  convenient;  I should  like  to  learn 
immediately.  I have  no  place  to  go,  except  to  a hotel,  and  I 
should  get  very  homesick  to  remain  there  all  day, " Brownie  ex- 
plained, nervously. 

She  preferred  doing  anything  rather  than  remaining  alone 
with  her  own  sad  thoughts.  She  tried  to  be  brave,  but  there 
were  hours  when  it  seemed  as  if  she  could  not  bear  her  lot. 

“Very  well.  Miss  Walton,  please  come  here  b.  moment," 
Mr.  Coolidge  called  to  the  overseer  of  the  room. 

She  came  at  his  bidding. 

A tall,  angular,  sour-visaged  woman,  who  had  been  in  the 
establishment  for  years,  and  her  face  grew  darker  yet  when  her 
eyes  fell  upon  the  delicate  beauty  of  the  young  girl  standing 
by  her  employer's  side. 

She  had  always  hated  everything  that  was  bright  or  beautiful, 
probably  because  it  made  her  own  deficiency  in  that  respect  so 
apparent. 


88 


EARNING  HER  OWN  LIVING, 


^^Miss  Walton/^  continued  Mr.  Coolidge,  ^'this  is  Miss 
Douglas,  and  I wish  you  to  assign  her  a pleasant  seat  in  the 
hall,  and  teach  her  to  wire  hats,'*^ 

Teach  her  I I thought  no  inexperienced  hands  were  wanted 
here  V exclaimed  the  woman,  measuring  the  young  girl  with 
her  keen  eyes,  and  speaking  in  an  impatient  tone. 

‘'That  was  what  I said,  Miss  Walton.  I desire  you  to  teach 
her  to  wire  hats.  Please  give  her  some  work  right  2i^2iyT 

Mr.  Coolidge  spoke  in  a quiet,  authoritative  way,  which  there 
was  no  gainsaying,  and  he  had  specified  hats,  because  he  knew 
they  were  much  easier  to  do  than  bonnets. 

Without  replying  to  him,  Miss  Walton  told  Brownie  to  fol- 
low her,  and,  with  a grateful  smile  and  bow  to  her  employer, 
she  obeyed. 

She  was  led  to  a seat  in  a quiet  corner  of  the  hall,  where 
Miss  Walton,  sitting  down  beside  her,  took  up  a hat,  and  with- 
out speaking  once  during  the  operation,  wired  it  with  rapid 
fingers.  Brownie  watching  intently  meanwhile. 

‘‘Can  you  do  it?’'  she  asked,  curtly,  when  she  had  finished. 

“I  can  try,”  the  young  girl  answered,  with  a little  sigh,  long- 
ing to  ask  a few  questions,  yet  not  possessing  the  courage  to  do 
%o  of  the  forbidding-looking  personage  at  her  side. 

And  now  the  wearisome,  lonely  task  of  earning  her  own  liv- 
ing was  begun. 

Her  heart  ached  with  a sense  of  utter  desolation  as  she  sat 
there,  vainly  trying  to  imitate  Miss  WaltonV  example  of  wiring 
a hat 

She  felt  more  utterly  alone  among  those  hundred  girls  thjn 


EARNING  HER  OWN  LIVING. 


89 


she  had  done  the  night  before  in  her  quiet  room  at  the  hotel. 
She  knew  that  many  curious  eyes  were  watching  her  every 
movement,  and  this  of  itself  did  not  serve  to  make  her  work 
any  easier.  She  knew  she  was  very  awkward,  and  she  knew 
she  must  appear  to  great  disadvantage  before  those  experienced 
wirers,  who  had  been  in  the  service,  doubtless,  for  many  years. 

The  wire  hurt  her  delicate  fingers,  the  needle,  instead  of  go- 
ing to  its  appointed  place,  often  slipped  and  pierced  their  rosy 
tips,  and  the  crimson  drops  would  ooze  forth,  causing  her  to 
lay  aside  her  work  and  wrap  the  wounded  members  in  her 
handkerchief  until  they  ceased  to  bleed,  lest  they  should  stain 
the  hat. 

One  sad-looking  girl  on  her  left,  had,  without  appearing  to 
do  so,  been  watching  her  ineffectual  efforts  with  a great  deal  of 
sympathy. 

When  at  length,  after  running  her  needle  half  its  length 
under  her  finger-nail.  Brownie  laid  down  her  work  in  despair, 
she  turned  kindly  toward  her  and  said,  with  a smile  : 

‘‘The  work  is  new  to  you,  isn't  it?” 

“Yes,''  Brownie  replied,  looking  up  at  the  sweet  tones,  and 
much  comforted  by  them ; “and  I am  afraid  I shall  never  learn. 
I am  so  awkward. " 

“ Oh,  yes,  you  will.  We  were  all  so  at  the  beginning." 

“Were  you  ? Then  I'll  try  again,"  she  said,  brightening  in- 
stantly. 

It  was  a real  comfort  to  her  to  know  that  she  was  not  quite 
such  a goose  as  she  had  thought  herself,  after  all. 

“ Perhaps  if  I show  you  how  to  hold  the  hat,  and  just  how 


90 


EARNING  HER  OWN  LIVING. 


to  set  the  needle,  you  would  get  on  faster,''  said  the  strange 
girl,  laying  down  her  work,  and  holding  out  her  own  hand  (oi 
Brownie's. 

“Thank  you.  If  you  will,  I shall  be  grateful.  I watcheo" 
Miss  Walton  carefully,  but  could  not  seem  to  get  her  way  oi 
holding  it." 

“Miss  Walton  does  not  like  the  trouble  of  teaching  anj 
one, " returned  the  other,  coldly. 

“Now,"  she  continued,  “take  the  hat  like  this,  between 
your  finger  and  thumb,  so  ; then  with  your  finger  try  to  steady 
the  wire  in  its  place.  There,  that  is  just  right.  Now  put  your 
needle  through  on  the  under  side  of  the  wire,  slip  the  hat  along, 
and  take  a long  stitch  ; no — that  is  too  short ; you  will  never 
earn  anything  if  you  take  such  little  stitches,'^  concluded  the 
girl,  smiling  again. 

“But  Miss  Walton  told  me  to  be  'very  particular  ' said 
Brownie,  surprised  at  the  fearfully  long  stitch  which  she  was 
told  to  take. 

“I  know ; she  tells  us  all  to  be  ^very  particular,'  but  when  a 
few  stitches  will  answer  the  purpose  as  well  as  a good  many,  wo* 
do  not  hesitate  to  avail  ourselves  of  the  fact. " 

“You  are  very  kind  to  show  me,  and  I think  I shall  do 
nicely  now." 

Brownie  worked  on  more  hopefully  after  this,  and  found  that 
she  could  now  make  the  refractory  wire  lay  in  its  place,  and 
knowing  just  how  to  hold  the  work,  the  needle  no  longer 
slipped  into  her  fingers. 

“I  do  not  think  you  will  have  any  more  trouble,  and  every 


EARNING  HER  OWN  LIVING, 


91 


you  do,  you  will  find  the  next  one  will  come  easier,''  her 
companion  said,  after  watching  her  a few  moments,  and  giving 
her  a little  more  advice. 

It  was  even  so.  She  was  very  quick  in  her  motions,  and  apt 
to  learn,  and  after  a.while  she  found  she  could  wire  a hat  in  ten 
minutes,  when  at  first  it  had  taken  her  more  than  double  that 
time. 

But  tb:e  confinement — the  close,  hot  room,  the  noise  of  dis- 
tant machinery,  and  incessant  chatter  of  the  girls  around  her, 
began  to  wear  upon  her. 

Her  head  throbbed  and  ached,  as  did  also  her  arms  and 
back,  from  their  unaccustomed  work,  and  she  grew  so  tired  and 
nervous  that  it  seemed  to  her  when  night  came  as  if  her  brain 
were  turned. 

Wearily  a^  sorrowfully  she  wended  her  way  back  to  the 
hotel  where  she  had  stopped  the  night  before,  and  threw  her- 
self upon  her  l^d,  too  thoroughly  worn  out  to  even  heed  the 
demands  of  hunger. 

She  lay  there  a long  time  weeping  and  sobbing,  longing  for 
one  soft  touch  of  the  ‘Vanished  hand"  upon  her  aching  head, 
and  the  soothing  sound  of  that  ‘Woice  whioil  was  still." 

She  almost  prayed  in  her  loneliness  that  the  good  Father 
would  remove  her  too  from  the  weary  cares  of  earth,  as  He  had 
done  her  only  friend. 

But  her  strong  spirit  conquered  at  last,  and,  rising,  she 
bathed  her  face  and  head,  re-arranged  her  toilet,  put  on  her 
hat  again,  and  went  down  to  the  office  to  settle  her  bill  at  tho 
hotel. 


92 


EARNING  HER  OWN  LIVING. 


Notwithstanding  her  loneliness  on  the  night  of  her  arrival, 
after  the  noise  and  din  of  the  day,  she  would  gladly  have  re- 
mained in  that  quiet  room,  but  she  knew  her  purse  would  not 
permit  of  it ; so,  after  paying  the  clerk,  she  ordered  a carriage 
and  proceeded  to  the  factory  boarding-house,  which  was  to  be 
her  home  for  the  present 


jL/V  adve^^tvre. 


93 


CHAPTER  IX. 

AK  ADVENTURE. 

The  days  passed  slowly  by,  and  Brownie  became  more  and 
more  accustomed  to  her  work. 

Before  the  week  was  out,  she  found,  by  diligent  application, 
that  she  could  earn  seventy-five  cents  a day,  and  during  the  next 
week  her  earnings  gradually  crept  up  to  a dollar  a day. 

She  became  quite  hopeful  after  this,  for  her  nature  was 
naturally  buoyant,  and  she  was  one  who  would  not  readily  give 
up  an  undertaking,  for  the  spirit  of  the  Douglas  was  strong 
within  her. 

She  began  to  feel  very  independent,  too,  and  she  really  en- 
joyed the  feeling  that  she  was  able  to  take  care  of  herself. 

To  be  sure,  her  earnings  at  the  most  were  only  six  dollars  a 
week.  Three  and  a half  of  these  were  paid  out  for  her  board 
and  lodging,  and  another  dollar  for  washing,  leaving  her  only 
a dollar  and  a half  for  other  needs. 

But  she  still  had  the  two  hundred  dollars  which  she  had  re- 
ceived from  Mr.  Conrad,  and  her  wardrobe  was  amply  supplied 
for  a year  or  two,  so  that  she  had  no  fears  but  that  she  could 
live,  at  least  until  some  better  position  should  be  offered  her. 
She  hoped  in  time  to  find  a situation  as  teacher. 

Had  it  not  been  for  that  dreadful  boarding-house;  with  its 


94 


AJ\r  ADVENTURE, 


noise,  Its  small,  close  rooms,  and  its  ill-cooked  fare,  she  would 
have  been  comparatively  content,  for  she  had  made  the  ac- 
quaintance of  one  or  two  young  girls  who  were  refined  and  in- 
telligent like  herself,  and  who,  too,  had  been  suddenly  reduced 
from  affluence  to  poverty. 

But  a change  was  about  to  come  to  Brownie,  which  was  to 
influence  her  whole  future. 

This  little  episode  of  three  weeks  in  a straw  factory  was  but 
the  stepping-stone  to  a year  so  fraught  with  changes  and  trial, 
that  many  times  after  she  sighed  for  the  noise  and  discomfort 
with  the  independence  of  those  few  days  when  she  toiled  so 
hard  for  her  pittance,  and  she  would  gladly  have  returned  to 
the  quiet  and  seclusion  of  her  close  little  room  in  the  ill-ap- 
pointed boarding-house. 

Mattie  Burnham  was  the  name  of  the  young  girl  who  had 
been  so  kind  to  Brownie  on  that  first  day  of  her  life  in  the  fac- 
tory, and  soon,  by  her  gentleness  and  refinement,  won  a warm 
place  in  her  heart. 

Both  of  the  young  girls  were  extremely  fond  of  reading. 

One  evening  they  issued  forth,  arm  in  arm,  and  wended  their 
way  to  a public  library  to  exchange  their  books,  and  to  look 
over  the  new  periodicals  in  the  reading-room  connected  with  it. 

They  exchanged  their  books,  and  then  proceeding  to  the 
reading-room,  seated  themselves  in  a cozy  corner,  and  were 
soon  deeply  interested  in  the  various  reading  matter  which  lay 
scattered  about  upon  the  tables. 

They  read  for  an  hour  or  more,  then  Mattie,  suddenly 
glancing  up  at  the  clock,  asked  : 

“ Meta,  do  you  know  what  time  it  is  V 


AN  adventure. 


9!' 


absently. 

''It  is  half-past  eight.'' 

"Is  it?'  and  Brownies  eager  eyes  were  not  even  raised  from 
her  book  ; she  scarce  heeded  what  her  friend  was  saying. 

' "What  have  you  there  that  is  so  interesting?"  demanded 
Mattie,  after  watching  her  in  silence  for  a few  minutes. 

"It  is  a little  French  story,  and  so  intensely  interesting  C 
Must  we  go  home  now  ?"  and  Brownie  looked  up  wistfully  at 
the  clock. 

"Yes,  it  is  about  time.  We  shall  be  locked  out  if  we  do 
not  get  in  before  ten,  you  know. " 

"Oh,  well,  there  is  time  enough,  then.  I must  read  just  a 
little  more.  I will  read  aloud,  for  I know  you  will  like  it,  the 
story  is  so  beautifully  told.  Do  you  understand  French  ?" 

" No." 

"Well,  no  matter,  I will  translate  it  as  I go  along;"  and 
Brownie  began  and  read  for  ten  minutes  as  fast  as  her  tongue 
could  fly,  Mattie  soon  becoming  as  deeply  interested  as  her- 
self. 

She  at  length  stopped,  with  a sigh. 

"Well,  I suppose  I must  leave  it;  and  they  will  not  allow 
us  to  take  any  of  these  books  away,"  she  said,  regretfully. 

"It  is  beautiful,  Meta;  but,  before  we  go,  just  read  me  a 
little  in  French.  I should  like  to  hear  you." 

Brownie  laughed,  and  glad  of  any  excuse  to  return  to  the 
book,  began  to  read  aloud  in  a spirited,  piquant  manner. 

"Dear,  dear,  what  a chatter  ! I should  certainly  take  you 
to  be  a Frenchwoman  yourself,"  interrupted  Mattie,  at  length. 


96 


AAT  ADVENTURE, 


adding  ; is  not  half  so  interesting  to  me,  though,  as  when 
you  translated  it,” 

She  arose  as  she  spoke,  and  Brownie,  with  another  wistful 
look  at  the  entrancing  pages,  reluctantly  laid  the  book  down 
and  followed  her  example. 

They  were  suddenly  arrested,  however,  by  a pleasant  voice, 
saying : 

‘‘One  moment,  if  you  please,  young  ladies.” 

They  stopped  and  looked  around. 

An  old  gentleman  was  sitting  just  a little  back  of  where 
Brownie  had  sat,  and  he  had  been  a very  attentive  listener  while 
she  was  reading  so  glibly  from  the  French  romance.  She  had 
not  dreamed  of  having  another  listener. 

He  was  a venerable,  genial-looking  man,  with  flowing  white 
hair  and  beard,  and  he  wore  gold-bowed  spectacles,  through 
which  his  clear  blue  eyes  beamed  kindly  upon  them. 

“Pardon  me,”  he  said,  courteously  rising  and  addressing 
Brownie,  “but  I wished  to  ask  if  you  are  a teacher  of 
French  ?” 

“No,  sir,”  replied  the  young  girl,  blushing,  as  she  thus  be- 
came aware  that  he  had  been  listening  to  her.  “I  only  read 
for  my  own  profit  and  amusement.” 

“Your  accent  is  remarkably  pure.  Pardon  me  again,  but 
where  were  you  instructed  in  the  language  ?” 

“In  Philadelphia,  sir.  I had  a teacher  who  was  a native, 
and  who  never  allowed  his  class,  after  they  once  understood  the 
language,  to  utter  a word  in  any  other  tongue  during  the  hours 
for  recitation.” 

An  excellent  plan,  young  lady.  Now,  if  it  would  not  tax 


AN  ADVENTURE. 


97 


j'our  patience  too  far,  will  you  kindly  read  me  two  or  three 
more  sentences  in  French  from  this  book  ?” 

Tne  old  gentleman  took  up  the  book  she  had  but  just  laid 
aside,  and  held  it  out  to  her. 

Brownie  bowed  gracefully,  wondering  what  his  object  could 
be  in  thus  testing  her  powers,  as  she  took  the  book  and  began 
reading  again  fluently. 

‘‘Thank  you,''  he  said,  after  a few  minutes,  during  which 
time  he  had  been  intently  reading  the  face  of  the  beautiful  girl 
before  him. 

He  then  immediately  asked  her  a question  in  French. 

She  smiled  brightly,  and  answered  it  on  the  instant. 

He  asked  another,  and  soon  they  were  in  a lively  contro- 
versy, which  was  like  Choctaw  to  poor  Mattie,  who  was  anxious 
to  get  home. 

“ Do  you  speak  any  other  language  ? Can  you  speak  Ital- 
ian?" 

piacere,''  Brownie  responded,  in  liquid  tones,  which,  be- 
ing interpreted,  means  “at  pleasure." 

“And  German?" 

“I  will  not  say  I can  speak  it  as  fluently  as  the  others, 
although  I understand  it,  and  can  read  at  sight  in  the  lan- 
guage. But  its  guttural  tones  never  had  that  attraction  for  me 
that  the  more  musical  languages  of  Italy  and  France  have.'' 

“Are  you  musical?"  demanded  the  old  man,  abruptly,  after 
a few  moments'  thought 

“Yes,  sir,  I am  passionately  fond  of  musw,"  returned 
Brownie,  becoming  somewhat  embarrassed  at  beinu^  so  closely 
questioned. 


98 


AN  ADVENTURE. 


‘'I  fear  you  think  I am  very  presuming,  my  young  friend/ 
he  said,  noticing  her  confusion,  ''but  I have  a very  particular 
reason  for  asking  you  these  questions  ; and  now,  if  you  care  to 
humor  an  old  man,  will  you  come  into  the  music-room  yonder 
and  let  me  hear  you  play  a little  T* 

Brownie  had  ached  to  get  hold  of  a piano  ever  since  leaving 
her  dear  old  home,  yet  she  shrank  from  displaying  her  accom- 
plishments in  so  public  a place. 

Still  the  old  gentleman  was  so  courteous,  and  seemed  so 
really  interested  in  her,  that  she  disliked  to  refuse  him,  and 
bowing  assent,  she  beckoned  to  Mattie,  and  followed  him  to 
the  music-room. 

To  her  intense  relief,  she  found  it  was  empty,  and  sitting 
down  at  the  piano,  she  began  lightly  running  her  rosy  fingers 
over  the  white  keys. 

The  tones  of  the  instrument  inspired  her  in  a moment,  and 
she  soon  lost  all  thought  of  self  and  her  listeners  in  her  intense 
enjoyment  of  the  sounds  which  her  soul  so  loved  to  hear. 

" Sing  something,  Meta,''  whispered  Mattie,  who  had  stood 
by  in  wondering  surprise  at  her  friend 's  accomplishments,  and 
had  only  waited  for  a pause  to  make  her  request. 

Without  a demur,  she  moderated  her  touch  into  an  accona- 
paniment,  and  sang  that  beautiful  little  song  "Your  Mission," 
the  words  of  which  had  been  running  in  her  head  ever  since 
she  had  first  entered  that  disagreeable  factory. 

She  sang  the  first  verses  beautifully,  but  the  third  was  too 
much  for  her,  and  ere  the  second  line  was  finished  she  broke 
down  utterly,  and  bowing  her  head  upon  the  piano,  she  had  to 
let  the  bitter  tears  have  their  way. 


Aisr  AID  VENTURE, 


99 


It  was  a song  which  Miss  Mehstabel  had  dearly  loved,  and 
many  times  during  the  past  year,  when  they  had  been  sitting  in 
the  twilight  together,  she  had  sung  it  to  her. 

It  brought  back  to  her  so  many  tender  memories  of  the  dear 
past,  which  she  now  believed  would  be  the  brightest  and  best 
part  of  her  life,  that  for  the  time  it  seemed  as  if  her  heart  must 
break  with  its  regretful  grief. 

It  was  only  for  a while,  however. 

She  remembered  that  she  was  in  the  presence  of  a stranger, 
and  almost  as  suddenly  as  she  had  broken  down,  she  recovered 
herself,  and,  rising  from  the  piano-stool,  she  signified  to  Mattie 
her  desire  to  return  home. 

Upon  the  first  outbreak  of  her  grief,  the  old  gentleman  had 
retired  to  the  farther  side  of  the  room,  that  his  presence  need 
not  embarrass  her. 

He  now  came  forward,  and  she  saw  that  his  own  eyes  were 
shining  with  tears. 

He  held  out  his  hand  to  her,  and  there  was  a note  of  tender- 
ness in  his  voice  as  he  said  : 

‘‘My  young  friend,  forgive  me  for  taxing  your  patience  and 
good  nature  to  such  an  extent,  and  allow  me  to  say  that  you 
have  given  me  more  pleasure  during  this  half  hour  than  I have 
experienced  this  many  a day. 

Brownie  gave  him  her  hand,  and  while  holding  it,  he  asked  : 

“And  now  will  you  allow  me  just  one  more  question  V 

She  bowed,  wondering  what  was  coming  next. 

“ I do  not  know  what  your  circumstances  may  be,''  he  said, 
with  a little  embarrassment,  “but  could  you  be  persuaded  to 
teach?" 


loo 


AJ\r  ADVENTURE.  ’ 


Yes,  sir,  if  I could  feel  satisfied  that  I was  competent  to 
fill  the  position  offered  me,''  Brownie  replied,  frankly,  her  heart 
bounding  at  the  thought  of  being  released  from  her  present  un- 
promising surroundings.  It  had  been  her  desire  to  teach  from 
the  firsts  but  no  opportunity  had  offered,  and  she  had  resolved 
to  secure  the  first  situation  of  whatever  nature,,  if  honorable, 
that  she  could  obtain. 

‘‘lam  happy  to  hear  it,"  returned  the  old  man.  “You 
ought  to  be  a teacher  of  languages  and  music.  Your  advan- 
tages must  have  been  of  a very  high  order,  and  I compliment 
you  upon  your  evident  improvement  of  them.  Now,  if  you 
will  kindly  give  me  your  name  and  address,  I will  endeavor  to 
call  upon  you  at  an  early  date,  and  talk  with  you  further  re- 
garding the  matter." 

Brownie  did  as  requested,  and  did  not  fail  to  notice  his  start 
of  surprise  when  she  mentioned  her  connection  with  the  firm 
of  Ware  & Coolidge,  nor  the  contraction  of  his  finely-shaped 
brows  which  followed  it. 

He  then  presented  his  card  to  her,  after  which  he  lifted  hia 
hat,  and  bowed  to  both  girls  as  if  they  had  been  the  most  aris- 
tocratic ladies  in  the  land,  and  then  left  them. 

Brownie  looked  at  the  card. 

It  bore  the  name  of  Wm.  H.  Alcott,  M.  D. 

Wondering  what  object  Wm.  H.  Alcott,  M.  D.,  could  have 
in  view  regarding  her,  she  carefully  put  the  little  bit  of  paste- 
board in  her  pocket-book,  and  then  the  two  young  girls  has- 
tened home,  arriving  there  just  as  their  landlady  was  about 
locking  the  doors  for  the  night. 

“You're  late,"  she  said,  grimly,  and  with  a suspicious  look 


AN  ADVENTURE, 


lOI 


into  Brownie's  beautiful  face,  she  added  : don’t  believe  in 

girls  o’  your  age  walking  the  streets  at  this  time  o’  night.  I 
only  advertise  to  take  respectable  boarders.  ” 

Brownie’s  proud  spirit  boi  ed  at  these  insulting  words,  but 
she  did  not  deign  to  notice  them  further  than  by  lifting  her 
proud  head  a trifle  more  haughtily,  as  she  swept  up  the  stairs 
to  her  own  room,  followed  by  the  more  subdued  and  tremb- 
ling Matti«, 


102 


CHANGE  OF  OCCUPATION 


, CHAPTER  X. 

CHANGE  OF  OCCUPATION. 

The  next  day  but  one,  while  Brownie  was  trying  heir  utmost 
to  do  her  allotted  task  and  get  out  of  the  factory  an  hour  ear- 
lier, that  she  might  slip  down  to  the  reading-room  and  finish 
that  little  French  romance  in  which  she  had  been  so  deeply  in- 
terested, Misa  Walton  came  to  her  and  told  her,  in  her  grim, 
curt  way,  that  she  was  wanted  in  the  office. 

Somewhat  disturbed  by  this  unexpected  summons,  she  laid 
aside  her  work,  removed  her  dainty  white  apron,  then,  with 
heightened  color,  but  a dignified  mien,  she  bent  her  steps  to- 
ward the  room  where  she  had  been  received  upon  her  arrival, 
and  which  she  had  not  entered  since. 

Upon  opening  the  door,  she  was  surprised  to  find  sitting,  in 
confidential  communication  with  Mr.  Coolidge,  Mr.  Alcott, 
the  gentleman  whose  acquaintance  she  had  made  in  the  read- 
ing-room two  evenings  previous. 

She  bowed  slightly  to  him,  and  then  turned  to  Mr.  Coolidge, 
who  had  arisen  as  she  entered,  and  now  greeted  her  in  court- 
eous tones. 

‘'My  father-in-law,  Mr.  Alcott,  Miss  Douglas,"'  he  said,  bj 
way  of  introduction,  and  Brownie  now  understood  his  start  o/ 
surprise  when  she  gave  him  her  address. 


€HANGE  OF  OCCUPATION’. 


103 

seated,  Miss  Douglas,  if  you  please,''  her  employer  con- 
tinued, placing  a chair  for  her. 

She  sat  down  and  folded  her  little  hands  in  her  lap.  Both 
gentlemen  noticed  her  lady-like  and  self-possessed  demeanor, 
and  inwardly  commented  upon  it. 

‘'Miss  Douglas,  Mr.  Alcott  has  done  nothing  but  rehearse 
your  accomplishments  since  his  meeting  with  you  night  before 
last,"  said  Mr.  Coolidge,  with  an  affable  smile. 

Brownie  bowed  again,  the  delicate  tint  deepening  in  her 
cheek  at  this  compliment. 

“If  what  he  says  is  true,"  the  gentleman  continued,  “and  I 
have  no  doubt  it  is,  since  he  is  amply  qualified  to  judge,  this 
factory  is  no  place  for  you. " 

Brownie  blushed  a vivid  crimson  now. 

Was  she  to  be  turned  away  on  account  of  her  little  knowl- 
edge } 

“One  cannot  always  control  ones  circumstances,  sir,"  she 
said,  quietly. 

“True;  I understand  you.  Miss  Douglas.  But  it  may  be  in 
the  power  of  others  to  control  them  for  you  in  a measure.  Now, 
I have  a proposal  to  make  to  you.  If  I understood  Mr.  Alcott 
correctly,  you  would  like  to  teach 

“Indeed  I should  like  it  very  much,  sir." 

“Very  well.  My  family  contemplate  going  abroad  in  about 
one  week  ; the  steamer  sails  the  tenth,  I believe.  We  have 
been  trying  for  several  weeks  to  find  some  person  competent  to 
superintend  the  education  of  my  two  younger  daughters,  and 
act  as  a sort  of  companion  and  interpreter  for  them  during  thefr 


104 


CHANGE  OF  OCCUPATION 


travels.  Now,  will  you  accept  this  position  and  accompany  us 
to  Europe  V 

'‘How  long  do  you  contemplate  remaining  abroad.?’'  Brownie 
asked,  after  a few  moments  spent  in  thought,  and  greatly  sur- 
prised at  this  offer. 

"A  year,  at  least;  probably  longer,  if  the  girls  and  their 
mother  enjoy  it.  ” 

" How  old  are  your  daughters,  Mr.  Coolidge  T' 

"Viola  is  sixteen,  Alma  is  fourteen.  I have  another  who  is 
twenty,  but  I believe  she  considers  her  education  completed ; 
although  I think  she  said  something  about  studying  the  lan- 
guages a little  more  while  she  is  abroad.  ” 

"Have  the  young  ladies  completed  any  course'  as  yet.?” 
Brownie  asked,  wishing  to  know  something  of  their  attain- 
ments before  deciding. 

"No,  I regret  to  say,  they  have  not.  Their  mother  was  un- 
willing they  should  attend  any  public  institution,  so  they  have 
had  private  teachers,  and  I am  afraid  they  have  not  improved 
their  advantages  as  they  should  have  done.” 

"Indeed  they  have  not!”  exclaimed  Mr.  Alcott,  excitedly. 
"They  have  behaved  shamefully  about  it,  and  are  a couple  of 
ignoramuses.” 

Brownie  laughed  as  he  said  this,  then  asked  : 

"And  do  you  think,  sir,  that  I am  capable  of  instructing 
them,  if  older  and  wiser  teacher’s  have  failed .?” 

"Young  lady,  when  you  were  reading  French  to  me  the  other 
evening,  I was  not  impressed  wholly  by  your  pronunciation. 
No,  there  was  a ring  of  decision  in  your  tones,  there  was  a look 
of  character  and  firmness  in  your  face,  that  told  me  you  would 


CHAmE  OF  OCCUPATION. 


log 

not  fail  to  make  a first-class  teacher,  said  the  old  gentleman, 
with  emphasis. 

'‘Your  very  youthfulness  may  help  you  to  win  where  the 
others  have  failed.  And,  as  I told  you,  it  is  not  altogether  an 
instructress  that  we  want,  but  a refined  and  genial  companion, 
and  an  interpreter  also,  for  none  of  the  family  are  able  to  con- 
verse fluently  in  foreign  languages, ''  said  Mr.  Coolidge. 

Sixteen  and  fourteen  ! 

They  were  trying  ages — ^just  the  time  when  girls  loved  fun 
and  frolic  better  than  anything  else  in  the  world. 

Was  she  competent  to  take  charge  of  them  and  direct  their 
studies .? 

She  had  deemed  herself  as  scarcely  more  than  a child  until 
her  aunt  died  ; since  then  she  seemed  to  have  added  ten  years 
to  her  life,  and  hardly  four  weeks  had  elapsed. 

It  was  a hard  question  to  decide. 

She  longed  to  accept  the  position,  she  longed  to  go  abroad 
and  visit  those  old  countries  so  fraught  with  interest,  poetry,  and 
romance,  and  where  her  aunt  had  lived  and  suffered  so  much. 
Then  the  opportunity  for  storing  her  own  mind,  and  improving 
her  accent  and  accomplishments,  would  be  a rich  one.  But 
the  responsibility!  Would  it  be  right  for  her  to  assume  it. 
Would  she  be  able  to  influence  these  young  girls  aright.? 

"Mr.  Coolidge, '' she  said,  when  she  had  thought  of  all  these 
things,  "I  will  tell  you  frankly  that  I would  like  this  position, 
which  you  are  so  kind  to  offer  me,  more  than  I can  express  ^ 
but  I am  only  eighteen  years  of  age  myself,  and  I d(j  not  really 
feel  like  deciding  whether  I am  eonipetent  to  direct  the  educa- 


tcS  mAmjE  OP  OCCUPATION. 

lion  of  yuVL^  Jaughters  or  not.  The  other  duties,  I think,  I 
could  fulfill  satisfactorily.'.' 

‘‘  Have  you  ever  completed  a regular  course  of  study?"  asked 
Mr.  Alcott. 

‘^Yes,  sir,  a thorough  course.  I graduated  from  the  high 
fechool  before  I was  sixteen,  and  I have  since  taken  a two  years’ 
classical  course,"  replied  Brownie. 

‘'You’ll  do,  then,"  said  the  old  man,  with  a contented  nod 
of  his  head. 

He  was  very  much  interested  in  the  beautiful  girl. 

My  principal  reason  for  hesitating  is,  that  I have  never  had 
any  experience  in  teaching,  and  could  only  follow  the  example 
of  my  own  teachers,  as  far  as  I can  remember  it. " 

“You  are  very  truthful  and  frank,  at  all  events, " remarked 
Mr.  Coolidge,  smilingly, 

“I  should  not  presume  to  accept  this  position,  sir,  by  placing 
toyself  in  a false  position,"  replied  Brownie,  gravely. 

“I  think  with  my  father-in-law,  that  you  will  do,  and  I feel 
confident  that  you  will  prove  faithful  to  your  trust.  Shall  we 
consider  the  bargain  closed  ?"  asked  her  employer,  giving  her  a 
jlance  of  admiration. 

He  was  more  and  more  astonished  at  the  fact  of  a lady  of 
ker  cuture  and  refinement  being  reduced  to  the  necessity  of 
working  in  a straw  factory  for  a dollar  a day. 

“ Mr.  Coolidge — I — really — " stammered  the  young  girl. 

She,  too,  was  astonished  that  he  should  desire  to  close  the 
bargain,  without  making  any  inquiries  regarding  her  character 
or  antecedents,  and  yet  she  did  not  know  how  to  broach  the 
subject 


CHANGE  OF  OCCUPATION 


107 


^'Ah,  I beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Douglas,'’  and  the  man  of 
business  looked  utterly  confused  for  a moment,  ‘‘it  was  an 
oversight  entirely  that  I did  not  mention  what  salary  you  would 
receive.  Would  four  hundred  a year  and  expenses  meet  your 
acceptance  ?" 

“Make  it  five,  William,"  interrupted  Mr.  Alcott,  adding: 
“With  those  harum-scarum  girls  it  will  be  none  too  much  ; 
there  will  be  plenty  of  little  knick-knacks  that  she  will  want  to 
bring  away  from  the  old  country,  and  an  extra  hundred  will  be 
none  too  much. " 

“Well,  call  it  five  hundred  and  expenses,  then,"  said  Mr. 
Coolidge. 

“Excuse  me,  gentlemen,  but  I had  not  thought  of  the  sal- 
ary which  I should  receive.  I was  upon  the  point  of  saying 
that — you  know  nothing  about  me  personally — whether  I am, 
morally,  one  whom  you  would  wish  to  receive  into  your  family. 
I expected  you  W'ould  require  references,"  Brownie  said,  with 
dignity. 

Mr.  Coolidge  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  laughed  heartily, 
while  Mr.  Alcott  beamed  satisfaction  at  her  over  his  gold-bowed 
spectacles.  He  recognized  the  true  coin  there. 

“ Really,  Miss  Douglas,"  said  the  former,  “you  have  shown 
yourself  wiser  than  I in  this  matter.  That  is  a question  which 
ought,  according  to  the  etiquette  of  the  nineteenth  century,  tc 
have  been  settled  in  the  first  place." 

‘ ‘ The  very  fact  of  her  speaking  of  the  matter  herself  is  refers 
ence  enough  for  me,"  said  Mr.  Alcott,  sotto  voce. 

“Howevet,"  continued  her  employer,  “I  suppose  Mrs, 


CHANGE  OF  eCCUPATI9N 


io8 

Coolidge  would  be  better  pleased  to  have  that  matter  satisfac* 
torily  settled.  What  reference  can  you  give  us,  Miss  Douglas?” 

‘‘That  is  where  I feared  there  might  arise  an  objection,”  re- 
plied Brownie,  with  a sad  smile,  then  added;  “ I have  only 
one  friend  in  the  world  to  whom  I feel  at  liberty  just  now  to 
refer  you  ; he  is  in  Philadelphia — Mr.  Arthur  Conrad.'' 

“What!  Arthur  Conrad,  Esq.,  the  noted  lawyer  of  that 
city  ?”  exclaimed  Mr.  Alcott,  with  great  interest. 

“Yes,  sir.  He  has  known  me  all  my  life,  and  I think  I 
may  trust  him  to  speak  a good  word  for  me  to  you.” 

“That  will  be  sufficient.  Miss  Douglas,”  said  the  old  man, 
with  a smile.  “ Arthur  Conrad  was  a classmate  of  mine  years 
and  years  ago ; he  was  a splendid  fellow,  too.  I know  all  about 
him,  and  if  he  knows  all  about  you,  we  shall  not  quarrel  ovei 
further  references.” 

“I  will  write  to  him  this  afternoon,”  said  Mr.  Coolidge, 
“and  we  shall  probably  hear  in  a day  or  two  from  him.  Then, 
as  this  is  a mere  matter  of  form,  shall  we  consider  that  you  are 
engaged  to  us,  and  for  the  salary  I have  named  ?” 

“Yes,  sir;  and  I thank  you  for  your  courtesy,  and  for  the 
confidence  which  you  have  shown  to  me,  an  utter  stranger.  I 
assure  you  I will  do  my  utmost  to  prove  myself  worthy  of  the 
trust  you  have  placed  in  my  hands.  ” 

Brownie  arose  as  she  spoke,  and  he  saw  that  tears  stood  in 
her  grave,  beautiful  eyes. 

Then,  bowing  to  both  gentlemen,  she  returned  to  her  work. 

Two,  three,  four,  five  days  slipped  rapidly  by,  and  Brownie  < 
heard  nothing  more  from  Mr.  Coolidge.  T 

She  began  to  be  anxious,  for  she  expected  that  he  would 


CHAmE  OF  OCCUPATION'. 


tof 

tainly  let  her  know  at  once  upon  hearing  from  Mr.  Conrad, 
and  surely  he  had  plenty  of  time  to  answer  this  letter  of  in- 
quiry. 

Saturday  night  came,  and  it  was  the  8th  of  October. 

On  Monday  the  family  would  sail  for  Europe,  and  she  hardly 
knew  what  to  do. 

She  disliked  to  seek  her  employer  in  his  office  and  question 
him  regarding  his  movements.  She  felt  that  it  was  his  place  to 
seek  her,  and  acquaint  her  with  his  desires  concerning  herself. 
What  if  she  should  be  disappointed  after  all  1 

As  she  was  removing  her  apron  and  putting  her  table  in 
order,  and  thinking  very  soberly  of  these  things,  she  saw  Miss 
Walton  hastening  toward  her,  a smile  of  satisfaction  gleaming 
upon  her  face. 

®'Miss  Douglas,’'  she  said,  loud' enough  for  several  of  the 
other  girls  to  hear,  “Mr.  Coolidge  wishes  you  to  come  to  the 
office  again ; he  wishes  to  settle  with  you. 

Now,  it  was  considered  quite  a disgrace  for  any  one  to  be 
called  upon  to  “settle"  before  the  season  was  over,  and 
Brownie  became  at  once  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes  in  her  neigh- 
borhood. 

She  understood  it,  and  she  knew  that  Miss  Walton  had  said 
it  aloud  purposely  to  attract  attention  to  her,  and  mortify  her. 

She  had  seemed  to  possess  an  especial  spite  against  her  ever 
since  Mr.  Coolidge  had  given  his  command  in  that  authorita- 
tive way  of  his,  that  she  should  give  her  a pleasant  seat  and 
teach  her  to  wire  hats. 

She  had  never  before  been  ordered  to  do  anything  contrary 
to  the  rules,  and  it  galled  her  excessively  to  think  that  she  must 


no 


CHANGE  OF  OCCUPATION', 


submit  to  do  it  for  this  chit  of  a girl,  as  she  called  Brownie,  hi 
speaking  of  the  matter  to  another  overseer. 

But  Brownie  never  winced  at  all.  She  knew  she  was  mis- 
tress of  the  situation. 

She  very  demurely  untied  the  thread  from  her  waist,  piled 
her  hats  evenly,  sat  her  chair  up  close  to  the  table,  and  then 
turning  innocently  to  Miss  Walton,  said  : 

‘'This  has  been  a very  pleasant  place  to  work  in.  Miss  Wal- 
ton, and  I hope  the  next  occupant  will  enjoy  it  as  much  as  I 
have.  ” 

‘^‘Ahem  ! you're  going  to  leave,  then,  are  you?"  demanded 
the  woman,  somewhat  puzzled  by  the  young  girls  collected 
manner,  yet  feeling  a sort  of  grim  satisfaction  that  she  was 
going  away. 

“ Yes ; you  said  Mr.  Coolidge  wished  to  settle  with  me,  did 
you  not?" 

“That  was  what  I said,  Miss  Douglas;  I always  intend  t® 
speak  loud  enough  to  be  heard,"  she  snapped. 

Then  she  added,  with  a sneer  : 

“ Perhaps  don't  mind  it,  but  it  never  has  been  considered 
any  credif  to  anybody  to  be  called  to  'settle'  right  in  the  middle 
of  the  season,  2in^you  hain't  been  here  but  three  weeks.  Pretty 
feces  don't  amount  to  much." 

Brownie  could  not  resist  firing  her  little  shot  after  this  spite- 
ful speech,  for  she  saw  that  several  of  the  girls  were  regarding 
her  suspiciously,  and  liatening  eagerly  to  the  conversation. 

“Yes,  Miss  Walton,"  she  said,  in  her  clear,  sweet  tones,  “I 
know  it  would  not  be  pleasant  to  have  to  settle  for  having  done 
anything  wrong.  But  I have  been  expecting  some  such  mes- 


CHAMGE  OF  OCCUPA  TION'. 


in 


sage  as  this  for  several  days.  I suppose  I sail  for  Europe  with 
Mr.  Coolidge  and  his  family  on  Monday/' 

This  created  quite  a sensation,  as  Brownie  knew  it  would, 
and  she  would  never  have  spoken  of  it  so  publicly,  had  not 
Miss  Walton  s insulting  speech  driven  her  to  it  She  could 
not  be  disgraced  before  these  young  girls.  She  did  not  con- 
sider it  generous  ever  to  boast  of  prosperity  in  the  presence  of 
others  less  fortunate. 

“Europe  ! YouT  ejaculated  the  astonished  dame,  her  face 
flushing  an  angry  crimson,  as  she  saw  how  her  spite  was  turned 
against  herself. 

“Yes,  and  I am  anticipating  the  trip  very  much/' 

“Um — I suppose,  then,  you  go  as  a servant—perhaps  as  a 
nursery  maid,"  snapped  the  woman,  vindictively. 

“Mr.  Coolidge  has  no  young  children  who  need  a nurse,  I 
believe,  and  as  to  going  as  a servant — well,  maybe  I am.  I go 
as  instructress  in  French  and  German  to  the  young  ladies,"  re- 
turned Brownie,  serenely,  as  she  brushed  the  threads  from  her 
dress. 

“Yes,  and  she  can  read  French  faster  than  any  of  us  can 
read  English,  I can  tell  you,"  said  Mattie  Burnham,  taking  a 
hand  in  the  contest,  and  indignant  to  see  her  friend  so  in- 
sulted. 

“French,  indeed!  I don't  believe  she  knows  a word  of 
French  any  more  than  I do.  It's  only  a high-sounding  story 
she  has  made  up.  Whoever  heard  of  a girl  educated  up  to 
that  notch  a working  in  a straw  factory .?  I tell  you,  girls,  / 
don't  believe  in  her  at  all ; she's  just  been  pulling  the  wool  over 
|rour  eyes  all  along,  and  nobody  but  me  has  been  keen  enough 


1 I 2 


CHANGE  OF  OCCUPATION. 


to  see  through  her.  Even  the  boss  knuckled  to  her  pretty  face^ 
and  made  me  break  over  the  rules  to  teach  her,  and  I,  for  one, 
am  glad  she's  got  to  go.” 

The  angry  woman  darted  glances  of  fire  at  the  unoffending 
girl,  while  some  of  the  young  ladies,  with  whom  the  fair 
stranger  had  been  a favorite,  murmured,  indignantly  : 

''Shame,  shame.  Miss  Walton  !” 

"Shame,  shame,  /say,  upon  those  who  put  on  so  many  fine 
airs.  I always  did  hate  a pretty  face;  you  never  can  trust 
them.  Humph  ! French  and  German  1 I don't  believe  one 
word  of  it  1” 

est  dun  bon  natural,  Mademoiselle  Walton,^'  said 
Brownie  in  perfect  French,  with  a little  laugh,  though  a spot 
of  indignant  red  began  to  burn  upon  her  own  cheek  ; but  she 
possessed  too  much  natural  refinement  to  retaliate  in  an  unlady- 
like manner. 

Yet  she  could  not  resist  giving  the  virago  a little  taste  of  her 
accomplishments. 

She  then  turned  to  the  girls,  and  added,  kindly  : 

"Good-by,  my  friends,  I may  never  see  you  again,  but  I 
wish  you  all  success  in  life.  '\Au  revoir.  Mademoiselle  Walton. 
Je  ne  vous  ferai pas  de  reproches. '' 

With  a mischievous  twinkle  in  her  eye,  and  a charming  little 
courtesy  to  the  overseer,  she  nodded  her  head  in  kindly  fare- 
well to  her  companions,  and  with  her  eyes  bright  as  stars,  her 
cheeks  like  roses  from  the  excitement  of  the  moment,  th^ 


♦“That  bespeaks  a good  disposition,  Miss  Walton.’* 
t“  Adieu,  Miss  Walton  ; I shall  cast  upon  you  no  reproaches," 


CHANGE  OF  OCCUPATION 


lovelj  girl  swept  with  all  the  grace  imaginable  from  the  room, 
leaving  the  irate  overseer  boiling  with  rage  over  the  unknown 
sounds  she  had  heard,  and  the  girls  laughing  at  her  expense. 

“Deliver  me  from  such  gibberish,''  sniffed  Miss  Walton, 
contemptuously,  and  trying  to  hide  her  chagrin. 

“Ha!  ha  I I told  you  she  could  rattle  it  off.  Don't  you 
wish  you  only  knew  what  she  said,  Miss  Walton.?"  asked  Mattie 
Burnham,  maliciously,  as  she,  too,  left  the  room,  yet  feeling 
sad  at  heart  that  she  was  to  lose  the  friend  whom  she  was  learx^ 
ing  to  iov«. 


114 


BROWNIE  AT  THE  COOLWQE  MANSIC^. 


CHAPTER  XL 

BROWNIE  AT  THE  COOLIDGE  MANSION, 

Mr.  Coolidge  glanced  up  with  a smile  of  welcome,  as 
Brownie,  more  beautiful  than  ever  with  the  excitement  of  hef 
little  encounter  with  Miss  Walton,  entered  the  office. 

‘^Miss  Walton  said  you  wished  to  see  me,  sir,’’  she  said, 
simply. 

‘‘Yes,  Miss  Douglas,  as  we  sail. on  Monday,  I thought  best 
to  close  your  account  with  the  firm  to-night.” 

“You  have  heard  from  Mr.  Conrad,  then,  I suppose,”  she 
said,  taking  it  for  granted,  while  her  face  became  radiant  with 
hope. 

She  so  longed  to  go  abroad  with  the  Coolidges. 

Mr.  Coolidge  shook  his  head. 

“ No,  Miss  Douglas,  I have  not.  I wrote  immediately,  but, 
receiving  no  reply,  after  waiting  three  days,  I telegraphed,  and 
his  clerk  returned  word  to-day  that  he  had  left  town  for  a 
week.  ” 

Brownie’s  countenance  fell,  and  she  grew  very  pale. 

All  her  bright  hopes  crumbled  to  dust,  and  nothing  remained 
for  her  but  to  plod  wearily  along  day  by  day. 

“I  am  very  sorry,”  she  said,  regretfully.  “Of  course,  it  is 
settled  that  I am  not  to  go  with  you.” 


BROWNIE  AT  THE  COOLIDGE  MANSION.  115 

not?''  he  asked,  quickly,  adding:  ‘'You  jump  at 
conclusions,  do  you  not?  I told  you,  I believe,  that,  as  we 
sailed  on  Monday,  I wished  to  close  your  account  to-night 
That  does  not  look  much  like  no/  goings  does  it  ?" 

She  had  forgotten  his  words,  and  her  face  lighted  a trifle  at 
this ; but  she  asked  : 

"But  would  you  be  justified,  sir,  in  taking  me  without  a 
recommendation  ?" 

"I  think  so,  and  I think  you  are  over-sensitive  upon  that 
point.  I never  met  a governess  before  without  a recommenda- 
tion who  did  not  try  to  pass  the  circumstance  over  as  lightly  as 
possible,"  returned  the  gentleman,  with  an  amused  smile. 

She  colored  vividly  red  at  his  words.  They  seemed  to  her 
almost  like  an  insinuation  that  all  was  not  right  with  her. 

"I  only  desire  that  you  and  Mrs.  Coolidge  should  be  en- 
tirely satisfied,"  she  said,  with  proud  dignity. 

" Miss  Douglas,"  he  said,  fixing  a keen  look  upon  her  face, 
"I  told  you,  when  we  first  talked  this  matter  over,  that  I con- 
sidered it  a mere  form.  I have  been  fully  satisfied  from  the 
first  that  you  are  a lady,  and  amply  qualified  for  the  position  I 
offer  you.  Now,  if  you  will  assure  me  that  there  has  been 
nothing  in  your  life,  morally  speaking,  which  would  debar  you 
from  entering  my  family,  I can  rest  satisfied,  and  there  will  be 
time  enough  in  the  future  to  write  to  Mr.  Conrad. " 

Anything  in  her  life,  morally  speaking  1 

A little  smile  of  scorn  curled  her  red  lips,  and  the  color 
leaped  again  to  her  very  brow ; but  she  lifted  her  clear,  truth- 
ful eyes  to  his,  and  he  was  answered,  even  before  she  saM,  with 
conscious  pride  : 


Il6  BROWNIE  AT  THE  COOLIDGE  MANSION 

“There  is  nothing,  there  has  been  nothing  in  my  life  which 
any  one  could  question.” 

“ I knew  it,”  he  answered  ; “and  now  I have  a request  to 
make,  and  that  is,  that  you  will  allow  me  to  send  my  carriage 
for  you  this  evening.  There  remains  only  about  a day  and  a 
half  before  we  sail,  and  my  family  would  like  to  become  soma 
what  acquainted  with  you  beforehand.  ” 

Brownie  shrank  from  this  ordeal,  but  she  knew  it  must  come 
sooner  or  later,  and  the  quicker  it  was  over  with  the  better  for 
all  parties. 

“Very  well,  sir,”  she  answered.  ' 

“At  what  time  shall  I send  for  you  ?” 

“An  hour  will  give  me  ample  time  to  make  all  needful  pre- 
parations for  the  change.  ” 

“It  is  five  o'clock  now.  Then  at  six  precisely  the  carriage 
shall  call  for  you.  We  dine  at  half-past,  when  you  will  meet 
my  family.  Now,  about  this  account ; it  is  not  a very  largej 
one,  Miss  Douglas,”  he  said,  smiling,  and  turning  to  the 
books. 

After  a moment,  he  continued,  with  some  hesitation  ; 

“Allow  me  to  give  you  a check  on  account.  You  may  widi 
to  make  some  purchases  before  leaving  New  York.” 

Brownie  drew  herself  up  like  a little  princess. 

' ' If  you  will  please  pay  me  what  I have  earned,  sir,  it  will  be 
all  I require,  thank  you.” 

“Whew!”  was  the  gentleman's  internal  comment;  “ om 
pretty  employee  has  some  spirit.” 

He  ran  his  eye  quickly  over  the  figures,  and  then  paid  he< 


^ROlVmE  AT  THE  COOUDGE  MANSION, 


just  sixteen  dollars  and  a half,  the  amount  of  her  earnings  for 
three  weeks  and  two  days. 

‘ ‘ Thank  you  ; that  is  correct,  she  said,  after  counting  it  ; 
then,  with  a bow,  she  withdrew,  a strange  feeling  of  pride  and 
independence  in  her  heart  that  for  three  weeks  she  had  sup- 
ported herself  by  the  labor  of  her  own  hands. 

True,  it  would  take  about  fourteen  of  it  to  pay  for  her  board 
and  washing,  leaving  her  only  two  dollars  and  fifty  cents  sur- 
plus. 

But  if  she  could  do  this  at  the  very  outset,  she  had  no  fear 
of  the  future,  if  God  gave  her  health  and  strength. 

And  just  at  this  moment  the  future  looked  very  bright  to 
her. 

She  was  to  receive  five  hundred  dollars  a year,  and  she  smiled 
to  think  how  large  the  sum  looked  tc  her  now,  besides  her  ex- 
penses and  the  opportunity  of  a year  of  travel  in  charming 
Europe. 

She  had  been  quite  a traveler  in  her  own  country,  having 
spent  her  long  vacations  in  visiting  different  points  of  interest 
with  Miss  Mehetabel,  so  that  she  was  well  prepared  to  speak  of 
“Columbia's'^  fair  scenes,  and  compare  them  with  the  oM^r  if 
not  grander  views  of  other  countries. 

Brownie  arrived  at  the  Coolidge  mansion  in  season  to  be 
troduced  to  the  family  before  dinner  was  served. 

She  did  not  feel  particularly  drawn  toward  either  Mrs.  Coob 
idge  or  her  eldest  daughter. 

They  were  evidently  worldlings,  and  received  her  with  an  ail 
of  superiority  and  patronage  that  was  intensely  galling  to  our 
proud-spirited  little  Douglas. 


Ii8  J^ROWmE  AT  THE  COOLIDGE  MANSIOH. 

The  younger  girls,  Viola  and  Alma,  were  more  simple  and 
affectionate,  and  although  somewhat  hoidenish,  yet  she  felt 
assured  that  they  had  kind  hearts,  and  promised  herself  some 
pleasure  with  them. 

After  dinner  the  whole  family  repaired  to  the  drawing-room, 
and  the  girls  being  anxious  to  know  what  the  new  governess 
could  do,  desired  to  hear  her  play  and  sing. 

She  gratified  them,  playing  and  singing  for  an  hour,  then 
tempting  them  from  the  piano,  she  made  herself  so  sweet  and 
engaging  that  they  were  charmed  with  her,  while  even  Mrs. 
Coolidge  and  Miss  Isabel  relaxed  their  haughtiness  somewhat, 
though  they  both  considered  her  too  pretty  and  polished  for  the 
latter's  interest.  She  wished  no  rival  in  the  way  at  present. 

'‘If  only  Wilbur  will  not  lose  his  senses  and  fall  in  love 
with  her  at  first  sight, " Isabel  said  to  her  mother,  when  they 
had  withdrawn  to  Mrs.  Coolidge's  boudoir  to  discuss  Brownie's 
merits. 

"Never  fear,  dear  ; Wilbur  knows  we  would  never  tolerate  a 
wife  for  him  unless  she  was  his  equal  in  society,"  replied  the 
matron,  complacently. 

" But  you  know  that  sometimes  young  men  fall  in  love  with 
a pretty  face,  and  become  entangled  before  they  know  it.'' 

Miss  Isabel  was  evidently  very  jealous  of  Brownie's  beauty 
and  accomplishments. 

She  had  not  been  at  all  pleased  that  her  father  should  en- 
gage a governess  without  consulting  her  own  and  her  mother's 
pleasure. 

This  feeling  was  shared  by  Mrs.  Ceelidge,  but  she  had 


SROWmE  AT  THE  COOLIDGE  MAMSIOH.  tig 

learned  wisdom  from  long  experience,  and  did  not  openly 
oppose  her  liege  lord’s  authority  upon  any  matter. 

I think  you  are  worrying  about  nothing,'^  she  said,  in  reply  ’ 
to  her  daughter.  ‘‘  Fm  sure  I can’t  see  anything  so  very  bcau- 
Itiful  about  Miss  Douglas/’  and  she  cast  a proud  look  at  her 
own  fashionable  darling. 

‘ ‘ Where  are  your  eyes,  mamma  was  the  impatient  reply. 

“ Her  features  are  perfect ; she  has  the  loveliest  complexion 
and  color  I have  ever  seen  in  any  face ; her  hands  and  feet  are 
at  least  two  sizes  smaller  than  either  mine  or  Viola’s,  and  her 
form  just  dainty  enough  to  suit  a fastidious  young  man  like 
Wilbur.” 

‘‘Really,  Isabel,  you  must  have  spent  considerable  time  in- 
specting the  new  governess  to  serve  up  such  a catalogue  of  her 
charms,”  remarked  Mrs.  Coolidge,  contemptuously,  adding  : 
“Perhaps  you  are  afraid  she  may  attract  others,  and  interfere 
with  your  own  prospects.  ” 

“She  may  ; who  knows replied  the  envious  girl. 

“Well,  if  you  really  think  there  is  danger,  I will  try  and  per- 
suade your  father  to  get  rid  of  her  even  now.  But  I am  of  the 
©pinion  that  you  have  exaggerated  her  good  looks ; I see  noth- 
ing so  very  noticeable  about  her,  and  I’m  sure  she  dresses 
plainly  enough  to  suit  anybody.  She  does  not  wear  a single 
ornament — nothing  but  those  soft  ruches  at  her  neck  and 
wrists.  ” 

“Her  dress  is  all  right,  but  hers  is  a style  of  beauty  that 
does  not  need  dress  to  set  it  off.  She  would  look  lovely  in 
anything.  But  it  would  never  do  to  think  of  sending  her 
away  now.  Papa  is  bewitched  with  her,  and  I do  believe  fi 


120  BROWmE  AT  THE  C60LIDGE  MANSION. 

grandpa  was  a young  man  he  would  fall  in  love  with  her  him- 
self ; he  has  done  nothing  but  sound  her  praises  ever  since  he 
met  her  in  the  reading-room/' 

Pshaw  ! Isabel,  how  extremely  foolish  you  are  ; do  try  and 
get  such  nonsense  out  of  your  head.  But  I promise  I will  take 
care  that  Wilbur  does  not  see  much  of  her,  nor  any  other  young 
gentleman  whom  we  may  meet  abroad,"  said  Mrs.  Coolidge, 
resolutely. 

She  had  no  notion  of  allowing  any  one  to  interfere  with  het 
son's  or  daughter's  interests  in  life. 

‘‘  If  you  can  only  put  that  resolution  in  force  she  may  prove 
very  useful  t6  us,  after  all.  Her  accent  is  every  bit  as  pure  as 
Monsieur  Renaud's,  and  I must  confess  that  her  music  is  per- 
fectly bewildering.  She  will  save  all  need  of  music-masters  ol 
teachers  in  the  languages,  which  will  be  quite  an  item  ; it  has 
cost  me  more  than  her  salary  every  year  for  my  music  and 
French,"  said  Isabel. 

''True,  dear,  and  she  will  also  be  very  valuable  as  an  inter- 
preter in  our  shopping  and  sight-seeing  expeditions  abroad. 
But  to  turn  to  more  agreeable  things.  I want  you,  Isabel,  to 
do  your  utmost  to  make  a brilliant  match  while  we  are  in 
Europe.  With  your  father's  purse,  your  face,  figure,  and  apn 
pearance,  I think  you  ought  to  win  somebody  worth  having." 

I bope  I may,  mamma  ; I should  really  enjoy  being  'lady' 
somebody,"  and  the  vain  girl  got  up  and  sailed  over  to  the  full- 
length  mirror  to  survey  herself. 

It  was  rather  an  attractive  figure  which  looked  back  at  her. 
She  was  tall,  and  had  a queenly  carriage.  Her  complexion 
was  very  fair,  and  she  had  flaxen  hair,  which  was  dressed  in  th« 


BROWNIE  AT  THE  COOLIDGE  MANSION. 


12* 


height  of  style.  Her  eyes  were  pale  blue,  and  her  features 
rather  small  and  delicate.  Her  manners,  when  she  chose, 
were  quite  fascinating,  and  she  had  been  quite  a favorite  in 
society  for  a year ; but  she  lacked  the  character  and  freshness 
with  which  Brownie's  every  feature  and  movement  were  replete. 

Is  it  not  time  for  Wilbur  to  come,  mamma  she  asked,  as, 

• satisfied  with  the  survey  of  herself,  she  turned  from  the  glass. 

‘‘ Yes  ; he  ought  to  have  been  here  an  hour  ago,'"  answered 
Mrs.  Coolidge,  glancing  at  her  watch. 

Scarce  were  the  words  uttered  when  the  door-hell  gave  forth 
a clamorous  peal ; another  moment,  and  there  was  a manly 
step  on  the  stair,  a deep,  rich  voice  called  ‘‘Mother,  Isabel,'' 
then  the  door  swung  open,  and  the  only  son  and  heir  was  re- 
ceived with  open  arms  and  joyous  exclamations  of  greeting. 

Wilbur  Coolidge  was  an  exceedingly  handsome  young  man 
of  twenty-two  years,  with  a face  that  challenged  all  criticism — 
bright,  careless,  defiant,  full  of  humor,  and  possessing  a gleam 
of  poetry — a face  that  girls  judge  instantly  and  always  admire. 
He  had  a frank,  clear  eye  of  deepest  blue,  brown  hair  tinged 
with  gold,  a smiling  mouth,  from  which,  when  he  spoke,  there 
gleamed  two  rows  of  white,  handsome  teeth.  Yet  it  was  a 
mouth  one  could  not  quite  trust — there  was  something  wanting 
which  made  one  feel  that  he  lacked  depth,  that  there  was  no 
great  chivalry  in  his  nature,  no  grand  treasure  of  manly  truth, 
no  touch  of  heroism  in  his  soul.  There  were  few  women  who 
would  have  read  him  thus  critically,  yet  Brownie  did  at  a 
glance,  when,  descending  the  stairs  arm  in  arm  with  his  sister 
Isabel,  they  met  face  to  face,  and  she  was  obliged  to  present  him 
to  ben 


122 


BROWNIE  AT  THE  COOLWGE  MANSION. 


My  brother.  Miss  Douglas/'  she  said,  briefly  and  coldly, 
and  with  a haughty  lifting  of  her  head. 

Miss  Douglas  greeted  him  with'  quiet  politeness,  and  passed 
on  ; but  not  before  she  had  caught  his  stare  of  surprise  and 
look  of  admiration  as  his  eyes  for  a moment  rested  on  her  face, 
then  swept  her  dainty  form  from  head  to  foot. 

‘‘And  who  is  Miss  Douglas.?"  he  asked,  after  they  had  passed 
beyond  her  hearing. 

“Oh,  she  is  a young  person  whom  grandpa  came  across  in 
one  of  the  public  libraries,  and  persuaded  papa  to  secure  as 
governess  to  the  girls, " Miss  Isabel  answered,  with  a yawn. 

“ Governess  1 Young  person,  indeed!  Why,  if  I ever  saw 
the  mark  of  the  true  and  cultured  lady  in  any  one,  I do  in 
her,"  he  replied,  with  enthusiasm. 

Nonsense,  Wilbur  I I hope  you  do  not  allow  your  head  to 
be  turned  by  every  pretty  face  you  chance  to  meet. " 

“ Not  I, " and  the  young  man  tossed  his  head,  with  a gay  laugh. 
“But  this  Miss  Douglas  is  something  more  than  pretty.  Hers 
is  a face  which,  if  a man  learned  to  love,  he  would  gladly, 
Jacob-like,  serve  twice  seven  years  for  the  sake  of  making  its 
owner  his  wife." 

This  was  said  partly  to  tease  his  sister,  for  he  well  knew  her 
weak  points ; yet,  it  must  confessed,  he  had  been  startled  by 
Brownie's  wondrous  beauty. 

■ “Pshaw!  Wilbur,  I shall  get  entirely  out  of  patience  with 
you  if  you  run  on  like  that ; and  let  me  warn  you  beforehand, 
if  mamma  discovers  you  ^"*e  ‘sweet'  on  the  governess,  it  will 
prove  most  disastrous  to  poor  girl's  prospects,  for  she  will 
p€St  ber  off  without  any  ^ miony. " 


BROWNIE  AT  THE  COOLIDGE  MANSION 


123 


The  frown  upon  Isabel  Coolidge's  brow  as  she  said  this  was 
>uiything  but  attractive. 

The  young  man  saw  at  once  that  it  would  not  do  to  betray 
too  much  interest  in  the  beautiful  governess,  and  he  deter- 
mined to  govern  himself  accordingly,  so,  with  another  light 
laugh,  he  said : 

“Don't  be  disturbed,  sister  mine.  We  men,  I admit,  have 
nn  eye  for  the  beautiful,  be  it  in  princess  or  maid.  I suppose  I 
may  admire  Miss  Douglas  from  a distance,  as  one  would  admire 
a picture,  with  no  thought  of  possessing  it.  By  the  way,  to 
change  the  subject,  what  is  father  going  to  do  with  the  horses 
while  we  are  away 

“Send  them  up  to  the  farm,  I believe." 

“When  do  they  go.^^" 

“Monday  morning,  I think." 

‘ ‘ Let  us  go  out  to  the  stable,  then,  and  take  a farewell  look 
atthem,"  proposed  Wilbur,  cunningly. 

“Not  I,  thank  you  ! I've  no  notion  of  being  perfumed  with 
tiie  scent  of  the  stable  if  any  one  should  call.  You  can  go  if 
you  choose,  and  I will  wait  for  you  in  the  drawing-room. '' 

The  young  man  gladly  availed  himself  of  the  permission, 
laughing  meanwhile  in  his  sleeve  that  his  artifice  had  succeeded 
so  well.  He  did  not  particularly  enjoy  a tek-a-tete  with  the  friv- 
olous girl. 

He  knew  well  enough  that  his  fastidious  sister  would  not 
accompany  him  to  the  stable,  and  he  longed  to  be  by  himself, 
that  he  might  feast  upon  the  remembrance  of  that  lovely  face, 
which  had  flashed  like  a gleam  from  Paradise  upon  him. 

ia  the  loveliest  girl  I have  ever  met,  and  I wfill  see  more 


1 


124  BROWNIE  AT  THE  COOLIDGE  MANSION. 

of  her,  Isabel  and  the  maternal  to  the  contrary  notwithstand- 
ing,'' was  his  mental  resolve,  as  he  paced  absently  back  and 
forth  in  the  stable,  wholly  unconscious  of  his  stated  object  in 
visiting  the  place. 

At  the  end  of  a half  hour  he  returned  to  the  house,  hoping 
to  catch  another  glimpse  of  the  object  of  his  musings ; but 
Viola  mentioned  that  she  had  gone  to  her  room  for  the  night. 

He  heaved  a sigh  of  regret,  and  then  turned  to  make  him- 
self agreeable  to  some  callers  who  had  dropped  in  to  bid  the 
femily  farewell  and  wish  them  a prosperous  voyage  to  the  old 
countiy. 


4 


I 


ADRIAN  DREDMOND, 


125 


CHAPTER  XIL 

ADRIAN  DREDMON©. 

The  day  of  sailing  came  at  last. 

A*  good  deal  of  confusion  prevailed  in  getting  the  family, 
with  their  endless  supply  of  luggage,  from  the  Coolidge  man- 
sion to  the  steamer ; and  in  the  midst  of  it  all,  Wilbur  man- 
aged several  times  to  escape  the  argus  eyes  of  his  watchful 
mother  and  jealous  sister,  and  get  a word  with  Brownie. 

He  would  know  if  all  her  trunks  and  boxes  had  been  attended 
to  ; if  she  had  forgotten  anything,  and  if  she  was  sure  she  had 
made  all  needful  provision  for  herself  against  sea-sickness,  and 
a number  of  other  useless  questions. 

Every  hour  in  her  presence  only  served  to  enthrall  him  more 
hopelessly.  He  never  wearied  of  looking  upon  her  bright  face, 
nor  of  listening  to  the  sweet  tones  of  her  voice.  She  wove  a 
sweet  spell  about  him.  ^ 

.Miss  Douglas,  however,  responded  very  quietly,  and  with 
some  dignity,  whenever  he  addressed  her. 

She  was  observing  enough  to  perceive  that  his  attentions  to 
her  were  anything  but  acceptable  to  the  Coolidge  family ; so, 
without  appearing  to  do  so,  she  avoided  him,  and  devoted  her- 
self to  her  young  charges,  Viola  and  Alma. 

But  a little  incident  occurred,  just  as  they  were  going  aboard 


126 


ADRIAN’  VREDMVNp. 


the  Steamer,  which  was  to  influence  the  young  girl's^  whole  after 
life. 

Brownie  was  the  kst  to  step  aboard,  excepting  Wilbur,  and 
not  paying  strict  heed  to  her  steps,  she  caught  her  foot  in  a coil 
of  rope,  stumbled,  and  would  have  fallen  had  she  not  hem 
quickly  caught  and  upheld  by  a strong  arm.  The  shock  was 
so  severe  that,  overcome  with  dizziness,  she  lay  almost  uricom 
scions  for  a moment  in  the  stranger  s clasp. 

‘'Has  she  fainted asked  Wilbur  Coolidge,  in  anxious  tones, 

he  sprang  forward,  too  late  to  render  service. 

“I  think  not.  It  was  only  the  shock;  she  will  rally  in  a 
moment,''  were  the  words  which  Brownie,  on  coming  to  her- 
self, heard  in  such  d«ep,  rich  tones,  that  she  was  conscious  of 
a sudden  thrill  running  through  her  whole  frame. 

She  opened  her  eyesj.  and  found  herself  looking  up  into  a 
•^ce  that  was  strange,  yet  familiar. 

For  one  instant  her  eyef>  met  his,  and  their  souls  met  through 
that  glance.  Then,  with  a vivid  blush  of  shame  staining  her 
fair  cheek,  as  she  realized  she  was  being  held  in  the  arms  of  a 
stranger.  Brownie  gently  disenf^ged  herself,  and  tried  to  stand 
alone. 

“Brownie  Douglas!"  the  stranger  murmured,  in  wondering 
surprise,  and  as  if  the  words  were  Screed  from  him  by  some 
previous  memory. 

As  she  caught  them  the  color  again  flew  to  her  face,  and  he, 
seeing  her  embarrassment,  hastened  to  say  : 

“I  beg  your  pardon,  but  my  surprise  made  me  forget  myself 
Will  you  take  my  arm  and  allow  me  to  condii<?^  you  below?  I 
fear  you  are  not  quite  strong  yet " 


ADRIAN  DREDMOND. 


127 


‘ ^ Thank  you/^  Brownie  began,  when  Wilbur  Coolidge  sud- 
denly interfered. 

‘T  will  attend  to  the  lady,  sir,  thanking  you  kindly  for  the 
service  you  have  already  rendered  her,''  he  said,  somewhat 
haughtily,  and  offering  Miss  Douglas  his  own  arm. 

She  took  it,  and  with  a grateful  little  bow  to  the  strange  gen- 
tleman, and  one  more  rapid  glance  into  his  fine  eyes,  she 
allowed  Mr.  Coolidge  to  lead  her  away. 

All  this  had  not  occupied  more  than  two  minutes,  and  yet 
during  those  two  minutes  three  hearts  received  a shock  from 
which  they  never  recovered. 

‘‘Who  w^as  that  gentleman.  Miss  Douglas.?^"  Wilbur  Coolidge 
demanded,  with  a grave  face,  when  they  had  lefl  him,  and  he 
was  carefully  conductirig  her  down  the  companionway. 

“I  do  not  know;  I have  never  met  him  before,  and  yet — 
was  Brownie's  hesitating  reply,  while  her  face  wore  a puzzled 
look. 

‘ ‘ And  yet  what asked  the  young  man,  trying  to  speak  carcv 
lessly,  yet  with  the  vestige  of  a frown. 

“It  seems  to  me  as  if  I have  seen  his  face  at  some  time,  buv 
where,  I do  not  remember. " And  the  perplexed  look  still  re- 
mained upon  her  countenance. 

“ He  seemed  to  know He  called  you  ‘Bfowiaie  Doug- 
las.' Is  that  your  name 

The  color  flamed  again  into  her  cheeks  at  the  question.  She 
had  noticed  the  stranger's  involuntary  utterance  of  her  pe^ 
name,  and  had  been  strangely  meved  by  it, 

“It  used  to  be  when  I had 


C 28 


ADRIAN  DREDMOND. 


She  grew  sad  and  pale  again  at  the  memories  which  cam^ 
thronging  upon  her  at  the  sound  of  the  dear  old  name. 

‘‘I  cannot  understand  though  how  he  should  come  to  know 
it,”  she  added,  after  a moment 

^‘Brownie — Brownie — it  just  suits  you,  Miss  Douglas,''  said 
Mr.  Coolidge,  taking  in  at  one  admiring  glance  the  shining 
coils  of  brown  hair,  the  liquid  chestnut  eyes,  and  the  long, 
dark  lashes  which  just  now  half  concealed  them. 

‘'My  name  is  Mehetabel  Douglas,  Mr.  Coolidge,'*'  Brownie 
said,  coldly,  and  with  dignity,  not  relishing  his  familiarity,  nor 
the  tender  cadence  which  his  voice  had  assumed. 

He  laughed  aloud. 

“Pardon  me,"  he  said,  “but  such  a name  for  you  is  an 
abomination.  Don't  you  ever  shorten  it.?" 

“I  do  not  think  it  is  very  euphonious  myself,  Mr.  Coolidge, 
and  therefore,  when  I write  it,  I shorten  it  into  Meta,"  she  ex- 
plained, smiling  at  his  indignation,  and  disarmed  by  his  frank- 
ness. 

“ is  quite  respectable.  But  what  is  the  matter  ? I fear  I 
yon  have  not  recovered  from  your  fall  yet.  Are  you  sure  you  , 
are  not  injured  by  it?"  he  asked,  anxiously,  seeing  she  had  ; 
grown  very  white  again. 

“No;  but  it  gave  me  quite  a shock,  and  I think  the  motion 
of  the  boat  prolongs  the  dizziness.  But  I shall  do  very,  well  if 
I can  only  sit  down. " 

“If  this  gentle  swaying  affects  you  so,  I do  not  know  what 
you  will  do  when  we  come  to  move,"  he  replied,  as  he  hastened  ; 
toward  the  saloon  with  her. 

Here  they  found  the  rest  of  the  family  quite  anxious  at  their  ^ 

Jf 

■ 


ADRIAN’  DREDMOND. 


\1(^ 

non-appearance;  and  his  mother  and  Isabel  were  not  in  the 
best  frame  of  mind  in  the  world  when  they  saw  the  governess 
come  in  leaning  upon  the  arm  of  Wilbur. 

‘'Miss  Douglas  has  had  a fall,  mother,  and  is  faint ; please 
let  her  have  your  vinaigrette,’'  he  explained,  as  he  carefully 
seated  her  upon  a sofa. 

“Thanks,  but  I have  one,”  Brownie  said,  and  straightway 
produced  one  from  her  little  traveling-bag,  which  caused  Miss 
Isabels  pale  eyes  to  expand  with  wonder. 

It  was  a costly  little  trifle  of  solid  gold,  and  its  stopple  was 
curiously  formed  and  set  with  pearls. 

She  prized  it,  and  loved  to  use  it,  because  it  had  been  one 
of  the  things  which  had  been  used  last  by  Miss  Mehetabel. 

“Do  look,  mamma!  Wherever  did  she  get  it.?”  whispered 
Isabel. 

“I’m  sure  I don’t  know,  child;  evidently  she  belonged  to  a 
different  sphere  in  life  before  she  came  to  us.  I only  wish  your 
grandfather  had  been  at  the  poles  that  night  she  went  to  the 
library  to  beguile  him  with  her  pretty  face,  ” returned  the  ma- 
ternal Coolidge,  impatiently. 

“Oh,  you  begin  to  think  she  is  pretty,  do  you.?”  sneered  her 
dutiful  daughter. 

“Wilbur  evidently  thinks  so,  if  I do  not,”  was  the  moody 
reply. 

Brownie’s  quick  ears  had  caught  every  word,  and  she  very 
coldly  refused  the  glass  of  ice-water  which  the  young  man  in 
question  at  that  moment  brought  her. 

She  then  settled  herself  upon  the  couch  and  closed  her  eyesy 
thus  intimating  her  desire  to  be  left  alone. 


ADRIAN  DREDMOND, 


130 


Upon  the  deck  above  them  there  paced  a young  man  with 
bent  head  and  thoughtful  brow. 

He  was  tall  and  exceedingly  well-formed,  his  broad,  full 
chest  and  square  shoulders  giving  one  the  impression  of  great 
strength  and  powers  of  endurance. 

He  looked  the  Englishman  every  inch,  and  a very  noble  one 
withal. 

He  had  a stately  way  with  him  that  impressed  one  at  first 
sight  as  if  he  M^ere  ^'to  the  manor  born.'' 

He  was  not  handsome,  like  Wilbur  Coolidge,  but  he  pos- , 
acssed  a face  of  decision  and  truth. 

He  had  deep,  thoughtful  gray  eyes,  a good  mouth  with 
kindly  lines  about  it,  and  an  expression  of  great  firmness  and  1 
character  withal.  It  was  a true,  good  face — a face  to  be  trusted  > 
under  any  circumstances.  I 

‘‘How  does  she  happen  to  be  here,  I wonder.?"  he  muttered,  ! 
with  a far-away  look  out  over  the  waters.  “I  know  she  left- 
Philadelphia  soon  after  her  aurit's  death, " he  continued,  “and'j 
though  Gordon  tried  hard  to  find  where  she  had  gone,  he  could  ^ 
not.  She  faded  out  of  the  fashionable  world  in  which  she  used  ! 
to  move  as  completely  and  suddenly  as  a fallen  star  drops  out  ' 
of  existence.  I'm  glad  now  I did  not  leave  the  button  with 
him,  as  he  wished  me  to  do ; no.  I'll  give  it  to  her  with  my 
own  hands,  or  I will  keep  it  forever." 

He  walked  absently  to  the  side  ofv  the  steamer,  and  stood 
looking  into  the  turbid  waters  beneath ; and  not  long  after  two 
ladies  drew  near,  and  he  overheard  the  following  conversation 

“Mamma,  I tell  you  we  shall  have  trouble  with  that  gov-- 
erness  as  sure  as  the  w^rld. " * I 


ADRIAN-  DREDMOND. 


'‘I  hope  not/'  replied  the  elder  lady,  wHh  a troubled  look. 

‘'Wilbur  is  over  head  and  ears  in  love  with  her  already,  and 
it  will  be  just  like  her  to  lead  him  on  for  the  sake  of  gaining  a 
good  position  in  the  world,"  and  the  young  lady's  tone  was  ex- 
ceedingly disagreeable. 

“Well,  it  cannot  be  helped  now;  you  must  make  yourself 
so  interesting  and  agreeable  that  he  will  prefer  your  society  to 
that  of  any  one  else;  you  must  monopolize  him  during  the 
voyage,  and  when  we  are  once  settled.  I will  see  that  she  does 
not  have  any  spare  time  to  flirt.'' 

“Talk  about  her  having  a fall,"  continued  Isabel  Coolidge, 
indignantly.  “Alma  saw  the  whole  proceeding,  and  says  it 
was  nothing  but  a stumble.  She  said  a gentleman  caught  her, 
and  saved  her  from  going  to  the  floor,  and  she  lay  back  in  his 
arms  as  helplessly  and  gracefully  as  any  heroine  in  a novel. " 

“I  have  not  much  doubt  that  she  is  artful,  and  would  not 
scruple  to  take  advantage  of  Wilbur's  weakness  for  pretty  faces, 
notwithstanding  she  appears  so  meek  and  demure." 

“Meek  and  demure,  mamma!  Why,  she  is  anything  but 
that  She  has  the  manners  and  bearing  of  a little  queen  1"  in- 
terrupted Miss  Coolidge. 

“Well,  but  she  is  very  quiet,  and  does  not  appear  to  be  seek- 
ing his  attentions ; but,  as  I said  before,  we  cannot  help  it  now ; 
ail  we  can  do  is  to  watch  them  closely." 

“Never  fear  but  that  we  can  do  that  with  our  sharp  eyes ; and 
with  you  and  I both  on  the  lookout,  I reckon  we  can  manage 
them,"  laughed  the  young  lady. 

“Yes;  and  if  we  find  any  indications  of  anything  serious 
mpon  Wilbur's  part,  I will  find  some  excuse  for  shipping  her 


132 


ADRIAN  DREDMOND. 


off  our  hands  as  soon  as  we  land.  I will  not  have  my  son's 
prospects  ruined  by  a poverty-stricken  governess,"  replied  the 
haughty  woman,  sternly. 

They  moved  away  from  the  place  where  they  had  been  stand- 
ing, and  the  young  Englishman  resumed  his  pacings,  a smile 
of  ineffable  scorn  curling  his  fine  lips. 

‘'A  poverty-strickan  governess  indeed !"  he  muttered  between 
his  teeth ; ‘'and  I would  not  have  her  prospects  for  future  hap- 
piness ruined  by  the  son  of  such  a woman  ! Poor  child !"  and 
his  face  softened  into  tenderness;  “then  she  has  been  reduced 
to  that  cruel  necessity,  and  she  will  have  a hard  time  of  it  if 
left  to  the  tender  mercies  of  those  two.  At  all  events,"  he  con- 
tinued, “I  will  manage  some  way  to  gat  acquainted  with  her 
before  the  voyage  is  ended,  and  return  her  cuff-button.  I shall 
miss  it,  too,  for  it  has  lain  so  long  in  its  place  that  it  seems  like 
a precious  talisman." 

He  took  it  from  the  pocket  of  his  vest  as  he  spoke — that 
beautiful  little  trifle  of  black  enamel  and  gold,  with  its  spark- 
ling initial  in  the  center,  inclosed  in  its  brilliant  circle. 

He  turned  it  over,  and  read  the  tiny  letters  engraved  on  the 
back. 

“Brownie!"  he  murmured.  “I  could  not  help  speaking 
her  name  as  I held  her  m my  arms;  and  how  beautiful  she 
looked  when  the  lovely  color  leaped  into  her  face  as  she  heard 
it.  Never  mind,  when  I put  this  into  her  own  little  hands,  I 
will  explain  it  all." 

He  replaced  the  button  in  his  pocket,  with  a deep  sigh,  and 
then  turned  his  attention  to  the  steamer,  as  she  cast  off  hei 
moorings  and  began  to  move  out  into  the  mighty  dee^p. 


ADRIAN  DREDMOND. 


The  reader  has  doubtless  recognized  in  the  stranger  the  per- 
son of  Adrian  Dredmond,  one  of  the  young  men  who  stood  in 
the  vestibule  of  the  Art  Gallery  at  Philadelphia  on  the  day  when 
Miss  Huntington  met  with  such  a series  of  accidents  to  her 

elaborate  toilet. 

t 

He  had  come  from  the  old  country  to  attend  the  world's 
wonderful  exposition,  and  was  now  returning — but  more  of 
him  hereafter. 


U4 


DRESSING  FOR  THE  OPERA, 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

DRESSING  FOR  THE  OPERA, 

The  passage  proved  to  be  an  exceedingly  rough  dtie. 

The  Coolidge  family  were  all  confined  to  their  state-roomi 
with  that  much-dreaded  enemy,  sea-sickness,  excepting  Mr. 
Coolidge,  Wilbur,  and  Viola. 

The  two  former  attended  to  the  wants  of  the  wife  and  sisters, 
while  Viola  devoted  herself  faithfully  to  Miss  Douglas. 

Viola  Coolidge  was  at  heart  a gentle  and  loving  girl,  resem- 
bling her  brother  somewhat  in  looks,  and  possessing  his  sunny, 
good-natured  temperament. 

During  her  attendance  upon  Brownie,  who  was  so  patient 
and  grateful  for  every  little  service,  she  became  deeply  attached 
to  her,  and  henceforth  the  young  governess  had  a brave  little 
champion  in  all  the  trials  and  difficulties  which  beset  her  path. 

Brownie  suffered  more  than  any  of  the  party,  not  being  able 
to  leave  her  state-room  during  all  the  voyage.  ♦ 

Upon  their  arrival  at  Liverpool,  she  was  so  weak  and  wan 
that  Mr.  Coolidge  and  Wilbur  were  obliged  to  bear  her  in  their 
arms  from  the  boat  to  the  carriage  which  was  to  convey  them 
to  their  hotel,  much  to  the  annoyance  and  disgust  of  Isabel 
and  her  mother. 

Adrian  Dredmond  had  waited  in  vain  for  the  opportunity  h« 


DRESSING  E(%R  THE  OPERA. 


135 


jhad  so  desired.  He  had  not  once  seen  Brownie  during  the 
•voyage.  He  managed  to  scrape  acquaintance  with  Viola  one 
day  when  she  came  on  deck  to  breathe  the  fresh  air,  and  not  a 
day  passed  thereafter  but  that  he  sought  her  out,  and  made  in- 
quiries concerning  her  charge. 

He  also  saw  much  of  Wilbur  Coolidge,  and  came  to  like  the 
careless,  good-natured  fellow  right  well. 

But  they  never  once  exchanged  a word  regarding  the  object 
which  constantly  occupied  the  thoughts  of  both. 

As  by  tacit  consent,  they  avoided  all  mention  of  Brownie — 
some  instinctive  feeling  seeming  to  warn  them  that  it  would  not 
be  a congenial  topic  to  talk  upon. 

Adrian  stood  by  when  they  carried  her  to  the  carriage,  and  a 
feeling  of  pain  smote  his  heart  as  he  saw  her  wan  face  and 
sunken  eyes. 

cannot  give  it  to  her  now,  but  I will  seek  an  opportunity. 
I will  see  her  again,  ’'  he  breathed  to  himself. 

They  lifted  her  into  the  carriage,  shut  the  door,  and  drove 
away. 

Brownie  Douglas — the  name  is  as  sweet  as  she  looks — 
good-by,  my  Brownie;  we  shall  meet  again,"  he  murmured; 
and,  with  a deep  tenderness  in  his  heart  for  her,  Adrian  Dred- 
mond  went  his  own  way. 

From  Liverpool,  the  Coolidges,  after  a few  days  of  rest,  went 
to  London,  where  they  proposed  establishing  their  headquar- 
ters for  three  or  four  months,  while  they  made  excursions  about 
the  country. 

Her^  they  took  a house  in  the  neighborhood  of  Regents 


136  DRESSING  FOR  THE  OPERA, 

Park,  and,  to  Isabers  delight,  entered  at  once  upon  the  gaye- 
ties  of  the  season. 

Brownie's  heart  is  stirred  with  various  emotions  as  she  finds 
herself  thus  settled  among  the  very  scenes  of  her  aunt's  former 
life. 

Here  Miss  Mehetabel  lived  when  she  was  a girl ; here  she 
was  wooed  and  won ; here  she  had  lived  that  short,  bright  year, 
loving  and  beloved,  and  which  was  followed  by  a life-time  of 
mourning  and  sadness. 

She  wondered  if  Lord  Dunforth  were  still  living,  and  if  it  ^ 
would  be  her  lot  while  abroad  to  meet  him.  She  hoped  so ; • 
and  she  was  confident  that  she  should  recognize  him,  from  the 
picture  which  was  now  in  her  possession,  even  though  so  many 
years  had  passed,  and  he  was  an  old  man  of  over  sixty.  ^ 

Of  course,  she  never  expected  to  meet  him  as  an  equal,  or  I 
even  speak  to  him;  but  she  longed  for  just  one  look  into  his 
face,  to  see  if  he  had  fulfilled  the  promise  of  his  early  man-  ; 
hood,  and  to  assure  herself  that  he  was  the  noble,  high-minded  ; 
knight  which  her  little  romantic  heart  had  pictured  him  from 
Miss  Mehetabel's  description.  ; 

During  the  first  hours  of  the  day  Miss  Douglas  and  her 
pupils  dived  deep  into  the  mystic  lore ; and  so  charming  did 
she  make  their  studies,  and  so  interested  did  she  appear  in 
everything  pertaining  to^  their  welfare,  that,  to  their  credit  be  it 
said,  they  applied  themselves  with  the  utmost  diligence  to  their 
tasks,  and  soon  gave  promise  of  becoming  quite  proficient. 

The  afternoons  were  devoted  to  sight-seeing  and  riding,  the  . 
evenings  to  receiving  company,  attending  drawing-rooms,  th^  | 
opera,  or  the  theater,  | 


DRESSING  FOR  THE  OPERA. 


137 

One  morning  Wilbur  came  home  in  considerable  excitement, 
awd  throwing  some  tickets  upon  the  table,  said  : 

‘‘There,  mother,  are  some  tickets  for  her  Majesty's  Opera, 
and  I want  every  member  of  this  family  to  attend,  for  there  are 
wonderful  attractions  to-night. " 

“How  so?” 

“Titiens,  Kellogg,  Berttini,  Nilsson,  and  others  are  adver- 
tised; and  it  will  be  a treat  which  one  does  not  often  get,"  he 
replied. 

“Then,  of  course,  we  must  all  go,  and  the  girls  will  be  de- 
lighted that  you  remembered  them,  for  they  are  not  often 
allowed  to  appear  in  company,  you  know, " she  said,  smiling, 

“And  Miss  Douglas,  too,  mother;  I procured  a ticket  for 
her,"  he  added. 

Mrs.  Coolidge  demurred  at  this. 

“But  Miss  Douglas  is  in  deep  mourning;  it  would  not  be 
suitable  for  her  to  appear  with  us  in  her  black  garments,"  she 
said. 

“Pshaw!  she  can  wear  something  else  for  once.  It  is  a 
shame  to  debar  her  from  such  a luxury ; any  one  can  see  that 
she  is  passionately  fond  of  music,  and  / should  feel  mean  to 
take  all  the  others  and  leave  her  behind,"  he  returned,  indig- 
nantly. 

Mrs.  Coolidge  thought  a moment,  and  finally  assented. 

She  well  knew  that  too  much  opposition  often  whetted  pas- 
sion, and  she  had  no  desire  to  provoke  Wilbur  into  being  a 
champion  for  the  governess,  and  accordingly  gave  her  consent. 

He  met  Brownie  in  the  hall  a few  moments  afterward,  and 
told  her  of  the  arrangement  for  the  evening. 


PJ^^SS/Ara  FOR  THE  dPRR^^ 


Her  face  lighted  with  pleasure. 

It  was  long  since  she  had  attended  an  opera. 

She  loved  it,  and  the  thought  of  listening  once  more  to  the 
entrancing  strains  of  those  great  artists  filled  her  with  delight 

^‘You  will  go,  Brown — Miss  Douglas  ?"'  he  asked,  nearly 
forgetting  himself 

He  never  thought  of  her  now  excepting  as  ‘‘Brownie,''  and 
no  one  but  himself  knew  how  very  dear  the  fair  girl  was  be- 
coming to  him  day  by  day. 

“Thank  you.  I should  enjoy  it  very  much,  if  it  will  not 
conflict  with  any  arrangements  Mrs.  Coolidge  may  have  made," 
she  said. 

“It  will  not  I have  just  been  talking  with  her  about  it; 
and.  Miss  Douglas — " he  contined,  hesitatingly. 

‘^Well?"  she  answered,  looking  up  with  an  encouraging 
smile. 

“Please,  if  I may  be  so  bold  as  to  make  the  request,  wear 
something  not  quite  so  somber  as  this,"  and  he  just  touched  the 
black  dress. 

Her  face  grew  very  sad  and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears.  Miss 
Douglas  had  been  dead  just  two  months,  and  the  thought  of 
gay  attire  seemed  unsuitable  to  her. 

“Forgive  me  if  I pain  you,  but  I would  like  to  see  you  for 
once  as  bright  as  the  others,"  the  young  man  added,  and  then 
passed  on. 

She  knew  her  black  dress  would  not  be  suitable  for  the  opera, 
and  yet  she  hesitated  about  changing  it  for  two  reasons. 

Her  own  feelings  rebelled  against  it,  ad  if  were  doing  a 
wrong  to  Miss  MehetabeL 


DRESSING  FOR  THE  OPERA, 


139 


^'And  yet/^  she  said,  thinking  it  over,  ''I  know  auntie  would 
not  wish  me  to  deprive  myself  of  the  pleasure  of  attending  the 
opera,  and  I know,  also,  she  would  not  like  me  to  appear  in 
such  a place  in  black.” 

The  other  reason  was  the  fear  of  displeasing  Mrs.  Coolidge 
if  she  made  any  change. 

But  that  matter  was  settled  for  her  by  that  lady  herself.  She 
came  to  her  room  during  the  day,  repeating  the  invitatiojn  which 
Wilbur  had  given  her,  and  concluded  by  saying : 

‘‘Miss  Douglas,  have  you  not  something  a little  more  appro- 
priate that  you  could  wear.?  This  black  is  hardly  the  thing.” 

“I  have  several  nice  dresses  w^hich  I used  to  w^ear  upon  such 
occasions,  but  I fear  they  are  hardly  suitable  for  my  position 
now,”  Brownie  replied,  with  heightened  color,  for  the  first  time 
alluding  to  the  change  in  her  circumstances. 

“Ah!”  said  the  matron,  in  surprise,  and  pleased  with  this 
evidence  of  the  governess'  modesty;  then  she  added,  patron- 
izingly: “You  have  seen  better  days,  I presume.?” 

“Yes,  madam.” 

“Well,  I leave  the  matter  to  your  own  judgment,  only  do 
not  wear  black,  nor  white,  for  Alma  will  wear  that.  Indeed,” 
she  added,  after  a moment's  thought,  “if  you  have 2.  nice  dress. 
Miss  Douglas,  wear  it,  for,  as  we  are  all  going  together,  I do 
not  care  how  nicely  our  party  appears,  ” and  with  this  affable 
expression,  the  lady  withdrew,  leaving  Brownie  to  con  the  mat- 
ter over  in  her  own  mind. 

An  amused  smile  curled  her  lips  at  the  expression  “if  yoti 
have  2,  nice  dress,”  and  w^hen  the  door  closed  after  Mrs.  Coo^ 
idge,  she  laughed  outright. 


140 


DRESSING  FOR  THE  OPERA. 


Evidently  she  thought  if  the  governess  had  seen  better  days 
they  could  not  have  been  very  remarkable  ones. 

She  crossed  the  room,  and  opened  the  trunk  in  which  she 
had  packed  the  richer  portion  of  her  clothing,  and  took  out 
her  evening  dresses. 

The  decision  was  a difficult  matter,  and  it  was  more  than  an 
hour  before  she  could  make  up  her  mind  which  one  of  those 
beautiful  garments  it  would  do  to  wear. 

She  had  no  desire  to  outshine  Miss  Isabel. 

But  that  young  lady,  with  all  her  love  for  show  and  fashion, 
had  nothing  more  elegant  than  Brownie's  own  wardrobe  con- 
tained. 

She  at  length  fixed  upon  a delicate  maize-colored  silk, 
trimmed  with  puffings  of  soft  illusion,  and  ruffles  of  fine  thread 
lace. 

She  had  only  worn  it  once,  and  it  was  as  fresh  as  if  it  had 
never  been  put  on.  i 

The  fichu  of  illusion  and  thread  lace,  the  tinted  gloves,  the 
beautiful  point  lace  handkerchief,  and  elegantly-carved  pearl- 
handled  fan,  all  lay  at  the  bottom  of  the  box  just  as  she  had  left 
them  when  she  had  last  worn  them. 

When  the  hour  came  for  dressing,  she  arrayed  herself  with  « 
throbbing  heart. 

Her  eyes  grew  bright  with  anticipation,  her  cheeks  rosy  with 
excitement. 

Involuntarily  she  found  herself  humming  snatches  from  dif- 
ferent operas,  and  for  the  time  she  felt  almost  like  the  gay  young 
girl  she  had  been  less  than  three  mondis  ago. 


JbJiESSmG  FOE  THE  OPERA. 


I4J 

SW  had  nearly  completed  her  toilet,  when  Viola  came  sweep^ 
ing  in,  lovely  in  blue  silk  and  white  tulle. 

In  her  hands  she  carried  a most  exquisite  bouquet  of 
flowers. 

She  stood  breathless  on  the  threshold  as  she  caught  sight  of 
Brownie. 

“Miss  Douglas,”  she  at  length  exclaimed,  “how  perfectly 
lovely  you  are  I” 

‘‘Thank  you,  Viola ; but  you  are  altogether  too  enthusiastic 
in  your  compliments,''  Brownie  returned,  with  a smile. 

Yet,  as  she  glanced  into  the  mirror,  she  grew  suddenly  coni 
scious,  and  blushed  with  a sense  of  her  own  beauty. 

Her  hair  was  drawn  away  from  her  broad,  low  forehead,  an(J 
knotted  gracefully  at  the  back  of  her  small  head. 

Her  beautiful  neck  gleamed  through  the  misty  fichu,  and  he\ 
rounded  arms  were  only  half  concealed  by  the  fall  of  delicatf 
lace  from  her  sleeves. 

The  dress  was  cut  en  train,  making  her  slight  figure  lool( 
taller,  and,  with  the  proud  poise  of  her  head,  almost  regal. 

She  wore  a finely-wrought  chain  of  gold  about  her  neck^ 
from  which  was  suspended  the  beautiful  coral  cross,  set  wit^ 
brilliants,  which  her  aunt  had  given  her  at  the  same  time  sha 
gave  her  the  other  contents  of  the  casket. 

The  butterfly  hair  ornament  to  match  she  had  fastened  ife 
her  glossy  hair,  and  it  sparkled  and  gleamed  with  her  every 
movement 

Her  lip  had  quivered,  and  the  tears  had  started  to  her  eyes 
when  she  took  them  from  their  velvet  bed,  for  it  broqght  vividly 
to  her  mind  that  last  sad  interview  with  her  aunt 


142 


DRESSING  FOR  THE  OFERAi 


Auntie/'  she  said,  as  she  softly  touched  her  lips  to  them, 
*‘you  told  me  to  wear  them;  I have  nothing  that  will  look 
half  so  well  with  this  dress,  and  my  heart  is  full  of  love  for  you 
to-night.  ” 

She  surely  was  lovely,  as  Viola  said. 

‘‘Fm  afraid  your  mamma  will  think  me  too  fine,*^  she  said, 
half  regretfully,  and  struck  by  the  young  girl’s  words. 

''But,’’  she  added,  ''this  is  the  simplest  thing  I have,  un- 
less I wear  white,  and  your  mamma  said  Alma  was  to  dress  in 
white. " 

‘'Miss  Douglas,  who — what  are  you  ?"  Viola  asked,  an  ex- 
pression of  perplexity  on  her  young  face. 

"My  dear,  must  I repeat  my  dreadful  name.?^  I am  Mehet*- 
rabel  Douglas,  and  a poor  governess,  ” Brownie  said,  gayly. 

"I  know  that,  of  course;  but  haven’t  you  been  a fine  lady 
rat  some  time  in  your  life.f^”  demanded  the  young  girl,  iitipa** 
tiently. 

"That depends  altogether  upon  what  you  mean  by  the  term 
'fine  lady,’ Viola.” 

"Why,  one  who  has  everything  rich  and  elegant,  and  who 
goes  among  fashionable  people.” 

Brownie  smiled  at  this  definition  of  the  term,  but  she  re- 
plied, gravely,  and  a little  sadly  : 

‘ ‘ My  dear,  you  have  been  so  kind  to  me,  I will  gratify  you 
in  this,  only  please  remember  that  I do  not  care  to  have  it 
spoken  of  again.  A year  ago— yes,  and  much  less— my  pros- 
pects in  life  were  as  bright  as  your  own  are  now.  But  death 
and  misfortune  took  everything  from  me,  and  I was  obliged  ter 
do  something  for  my  own  support.” 


DRESSING  FOR  THE  OPERA, 


143 


'•Did  you  live  in  an  elegant  house,  and  have  servants,  horses, 
carriages  r 
, ^^Yes." 

‘'Have  you  always  had  these  things  until  now?'' 

[ "Yes,  dear." 

"Then  you  are  every  bit  as  good  as  we  are,  and  it's  a shame 
that  you  are  not  treated  as  an  equal,"  burst  from  Viola's  lips, 
indignantly,  as  she  remembered  all  Isabel's  sneers  about  "the 
governess,"  and  her  mother’s  scathing  remarks  regarding  "that 
person,  Miss  Douglas." 

"Hush,  Viola!"  Brownie  said,  quietly,  yet  again  smiling  at 
the  child’s  naive  remark.  "Shall  I tell  you  what  my  idea  of  a 
fine  lady  is?"  * 

"Yes,  do,"  Viola  said,  eagerly. 

"In  the  first  place,  it  is  to  be  always  kind  and  courteous  to 
every  one ; to  respect  one’s  self,  so  that  one  would  never  do  a 
mean  or  cruel  act ; and  never  to  triumph  over  or  hold  one's 
self  above  others  who  may  be  less  fortunate  in  life. " 

"That’s  it ! that’s  it  1 I only  wish  mamma  and  Isabel  could 
hear  you.  They  think  they  are  fine  ladies,  but,  dear  Miss 
Douglas,  I'd  rather  be  one  after  your  standard,  and  I will!” 
and  the  impulsive  girl  threw  her  arms  around  Brownie's  neck 
tnd  kissed  her  heartily. 

Brownie  was  afraid  she  had  made  a mistake  in  speaking 
thus. 

She  had  not  the  least  thought  of  casting  any  reflections  when 
she  spoke. 

She  thought  it  wise  now  to  change  the  subject,  and  asked  ; 

"Where  did  you  get  such  lovely  flowers,  dear?" 


DRESSING  FOR  THE  OPERA. 


U4 

'"Oh,  I nearly  forgot!  Wilbur  sent  them  to  you,  with  hi^ 
compliments, ''  Viola  said,  apologetically,  as  she  gave  them  to 
her. 

Miss  Douglas  colored  a vivid  crimson. 

She  did  not  like  to  take  gifts  from  him,  knowing  the  feelings 
of  Mrs.  Coolidge  and  Isabel ; and,  at  the  same  time,  she  did 
not  like  to  wound  him  by  refusing  them. 

So  she  compromised  the  matter  by  dividing  them. 

“They  are  very  beautiful,  dear,  and  it  is  very  kind  of  your 
brother  to  remember  me.  But  there  are  so  many  of  them,  let 
me  fasten  this  spray  in  your  hair.'" 

She  took  the  loveliest  cluster  of  white  moss-rose  buds  from 
the  bouquet. 

“There,  see  for  yourself.  Is  is  not  an  improvement.?"  she 
asked,  as  her  deft  fingers  wove  it  among  Viola's  golden  braids. 

“Thank  you,"  the  young  girl  said,  her  face  beaming  with 
pleasure,  as  she  caught  the  reflection  of  a fair,  innocent  face, 
surrounded  by  massive  coils  of  luxuriant  hair,  among  which 
the  buds,  with  their  green  leaves,  nestled  lovingly. 

' ^ But  you  have  given  me  the  prettiest  you  had.  Miss  Doug- 
las," she  added,  regretfully. 

“And  why  shouldn't  I,  dear.?  I have  not  forgotten  who  wa% 
so  kind  and  faithful  to  a poor,  sick,  useless  little  body  when  we 
were  crossing  the  ocean,"  Brownie  playfully  replied,  as  she 
ki^d  the  flushed  cheek. 

She  then  selected  a few  flowers  for  herself,  and  telling  Viola 
that  she  was  ready,  they  both  descended  to  the  drawing-room. 

A hush  of  expectation  followed  their  entrance. 

Isabel's  eagle  eye  took  in  at  one  sweeping  glance  the  simple 


3RESSING  FOR  THE  OPERA, 


1^5 

elegance  of  the  governess'  toilet,  and  her  astonishment  was 
plainly  visible  as  she  noticed  those  two  almost  priceless  orna- 
ments  which  she  wore  upon  her  bosom  and  in  her  hair. 

Really,  Miss  Douglas,  you  have  bloomed,  haven't  you  ?*" 
she  said,  sarcastically. 

‘^Indeed,  Miss  Douglas,  I did  not  expect  to  see  you  quite 
so  radiant, " said  Mrs.  Coolidge,  in  the  same  tones,  and  wonder- 
ing where  under  the  sun  her  governess  got  such  elegant  jewels. 

Brownie  blushed  deeply  at  Isabel's  insult,  but  did  not  notice 
her  remark,  except  by  a little  lifting  of  her  proud  head. 

To  Mrs.  Coolidge,  however,  she  said,  courteously  : 

'^Do  I not  meet  your  approbation,  madam?  If  not,  anj 
change  you  may  choose  to  suggest  I will  gladly  make. " 

‘‘They'll  spoil  all  her  pleasure,  the  vixens,"  was  Wilbur's  in 
Ward  comment,  as  his  eyes  gloated  upon  her  wonderful  beauty^ 
and  gleamed  with  a stronger  ray  of  love  than  he  had  hencefortir- 
dared  betray. 

Mrs.  Coolidge  knew  she  had  tied  her  own  tongue  by  whaf 
ehe  had  said  to  Brownie  in  her  own  room,  but  she  inwardly  re^ 
solved  that  the  same  thing  should  never  happen  again. 

“Your  costume  is  rather  rich  for  your  position,"  she  re* 
marked,  with  well-assumed  indifference,  “but  it  is  of  no  con- 
sequence for  once. " 

Then,  as  they  left  the  house,  she  whispered  to  her  daughter  ; 

“No  one  need  know  but  that  she  is  a guest." 

“It's  fine,  isn't  it,  to  have  your  governess  outshine  your  own 
daughter?  I do  hope  this  night's  experience  will  teach  you 
Visdom/  grumbled  the  envious  girl 


14^ 


A SCENE. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A SCENE. 

Her  Majesty's  Opera,  Drury  Lane,  was  crowded  to  its  utmost 
capacity  when  our  party  arrived. 

But  having  secured  a private  box,  this  circumstance  did  not 
inconvenience  them  in  the  least. 

Wilbur  Coolidge  took  care,  after  his  mother  and  Isabel  were 
comfortably  seated,  that  Miss  Douglas  should  have  a place 
where  she  could  command  a good  view  of  the  stage. 

He  was  disgusted  with  their  treatment  of  the  lovely  gov- 
erness, and  strove  by  numerous  little  attentions  to  atone  in 
part  for  their  rudeness. 

A battery  of  lorgnettes  was  immediately  leveled  at  this  bril- 
liant company,  and  there  were  numberless  surmisings  and  ques- 
tionings as  to  who  the  new-comers  could  be. 

In  a box  not  far  from  the  Coolidge  party  there  sat  a royal- 
looking couple — an  old  gentleman,  still  hale  and  hearty> 
although  upward  of  sixty-five,  and  a matron  of  perhaps  a half- 
dozen  years  younger. 

By  the  side  of  the  latter,  and  assiduously  attending  to  her 
wants,  was  a )'oung  man  of  about  two-and-twenty. 

It  was  no  other  than  Adrian  Dredmond  1 

He,  too,  had  leveled  his  glass  as  the  new-comers  settled  them^ 
selves  in  their  places. 


A SCENE. 


147 


After  one  sweeping  glance,  he  half  started  from  his  chair, 
with  a low  exclamation  of  pleasure. 

^^Whom  do  you  see,  Adrian.?''  asked  the  lady  by  his  side. 

‘'Some  friends  wh®  came  over  in  the  same  steamer  with  me, 
I believe,”  he  replied,  taking  another  look,  and  a smile  of 
pleasure  curving  his  fine  lips  as  his  eye  rested  upon  Brownie, 
who  seemed  to  him  in  her  elegant  robes  like  some  beautiful 
vision  from  another  sphere. 

"Americans.?”  demanded  his  companion,  preparing  to  adjust 
her  own  glass. 

"Yes,  your  ladyship,”  was  the  quiet  response. 

"Ah!” 

Her  ladyship,  as  she  uttered  this  with  a slight  accent  of  con- 
tempt, evidently  did  not  deem  them  worthy  the  effort  of  a 
glance,  and  accordingly  turned  her  glass  toward  the  stage,  the 
curtain  having  risen  for  the  first  act. 

For  a time  the  attention  of  all  was  attracted  in  the  same 
direction. 

Brownie  sat  as  one  entranced,  forgetting  the  past,  and  living 
over  again  the  exquisite  delight  which  she  had  so  often  expe- 
rienced in  by-gone  days. 

Wilbur  Coolidge,  as  he  stood  behind  her,  his  hand  resting 
lightly  upon  the  back  of  her  chair,  could  feel  the  thrill  of 
ecstasy  which  crept  cX9^r  her  as  the  first  notes  of  that  almost 
divine  songstress.  Mile.  Titiens,  broke  the  breathless  hush  of 
the  expectant  throng. 

"You  are  fond  of  the  opera,  Miss  Douglas?”  he  whispered, 
when  the  curtain  at  length  fell. 

“Passionately,”  she  replied,  turning  her  glowing  face  toward 


A SCENE. 


i48 

him;  then  added  : ‘‘And,  Mr.  Coolidge,  you  have  given  me 
the  first  bit  of  unalloyed  pleasure  I have  had  since  great  mis- 
fortune came  upon  me/' 

Her  voice  quivered,  her  eyes  were  dewy,  and  her  breast 
heaved  with  the  deliciousness  of  the  hour. 

To  him,  as  he  stood  looking  down  upon  her,  she  was  the 
feirest  being  that  breathed  the  breath  of  life. 

“I  would  I could  henceforth  give  you  every  joy  of  earth," 
he  murmured,  tenderly,  in  her  ear. 

“Wilbur,"  his  mother  said,  in  cold,  hard  tones,  “will  you 
come  and  arrange  your  sister  s cloak  ?" 

She  had  watched  his  every  movement,  and  her  heart  was  in  a 
tumult  of  rage  at  that  artful  girl  for  presuming  to  keep  him  at 
her  side. 

A meaning  glance  was  exchanged  between  mother  and 
daughter,  as  she  made  her  request ; and  after  the  cloak  was  sat- 
isfactorily arranged,  as  he  was  about  returning  to  his  post, 
Isabel  said  : 

“Sit  down  here,  Wilbur,  and  point  out  to  me  some  of  the 
people  whom  you  know. " 

He  pointed  out  several,  when  she  suddenly  exclaimed : 

“Why,  there  is  that  Mr.  Dredmond  who  came  over  with  ua, 
ttitnot.'^" 

“Yes,"  dryly  replied  her  brother.  ! 

“ I like  his  appearance  very  much.  I wish  you  would  go 
and  bring  him  here,  and  introduce  him  to  us. " 

“What  is  the  use?  Any  other  time  will  do  as  well,  and  it  is 
nearly  time  for  the  curtain  to  rise  again,"  he  said,  impatiently, 
and  with  an  uneasy  glance  toward  Miss  Douglas, 


A SCENE. 


149 


^^Oh,  there  is  plenty  of  time.  Look  ! he  is  bowing  to  you 
now. '' 

Wilbur  returned  the  salutation,  but  did  not  move,  and  his 
mother  exclaimed  ; 

‘ ' Do  oblige  your  sister,  Wilbur.  He  is,  indeed,  a fine-look- 
ing young  man ; I wonder  if  he  is  well  connected  T* 

“Rather.  He  is  grandson  to  an  earl,"'  was  the  laconic 
reply. 

ejaculated  both  mother  and  daughter  in  a breath. 

“Yes;  so  I have  lately  learned,  and,  notwithstanding  he  will 
succeed  to  an  earldom  upon  his  grandfather  s death,  he  is  very 
modest  aboujt  it,  and  prefers  to  be  addressed  as  plain  Mr.  Dred- 
mond,  rather  than  ' my  lord. ' '' 

“Wilbur,  you  must  introduce  him,  by  all  means.  Isabel, 
who  knows  what  may  happen  V and  Mrs.  Coolidge,  much  ex- 
cited at  the  intelligence  she  had  just  received,  ruffled  her  feath- 
ers with  motherly  pride. 

“There,  Wilbur  ! I do  believe  he  is  coming  here.  He  has 
left  his  box,  and  is  coming  this  way!’'  exclaimed  Isabel,  her 
cheeks  flushing  a vivid  scarlet  at  the  thought  of  being  intro- 
duced to  a peer  of  the  realm. 

Adrian  Dredmond  was  indeed  bending  his  steps  in  that 
direction ; but  had  those  proud  women  known  that  it  was  on 
account  of  their  despised  governess,  and  her  alone,  they  would 
not  have  been  so  elated. 

Wilbur  arose  and  met  him  at  the  entrance. 

“How  are  you,  Coolidge.?"  exclaimed  the  young  man, 
heartily,  and  extending  his  hand.  “We  have  not  met  often 
•f  late,"  he  added. 


150 


A SCENE. 


“No;  I have  been  dancing  attendance  upon  the  ladies 
Will  you  come  in  and  be  introduced  ?” 

“With  pleasure,”  and  his  eyes  lingered  upon  that  graceful 
figure,  clad  in  maize-colored  silk,  seated  between  the  two  young 
girls. 

Wilbur  led  him  first  to  his  mother  and  Isabel,  then  presented 
him  to  Viola  and  Alma,  and  finally  to  Brownie,  in  spite  of 
Mrs.  Coolidge’s  warning  glance,  as  she  saw  what  he  was  about 
to  do. 

The  young  girl’s  cheeks  kindled  to  a flame  as  she  laid  her 
daintily-gloved  hand  in  his,  and  remembered  that  this  hand* 
some  stranger,  whose  name  she  had  not  known  until  this  mo- 
ment, had  held  her  in  his  arms,  and  so  dose  to  his  bosom  that 
she  had  felt  the  beating  of  his  great  heart. 

Wilbur  noted  her  rich  color,  and  the  shy  drooping  of  her 
white  lids;  he  noted,  too,  the  lingering  look  of  admiration 
which  the  young  man  bent  upon  her,  and  a great  pain  smote 
his  heart — a fear  that  trouble,  and  disaster  to  his  hopes,  would 
follow  this  introduction. 

Mr.  Dredmond  was  invited  to  a seat  by  Isabel,  and  instantly 
monopolized  by  her,  while  Mrs.  Coolidge,  much  elated  at  the 
turn  events  were  taking,  took  care  that  Wilbur  did  not  resume 
his  position  near  the  governess,  but  kept  him  busy  answerinf 
questions  till  the  opera  was  over.  j 

Miss  Isabel  intended  that  Mr.  Dredmond  should  attend  hel 
to  the  carriage,  but,  by  some  means,  in  leaving  the  box,  the^ 
became  separated,  he  standing  at  the  entrance  until  all  ha4 
passed  out. 


A SCENE, 


151 


Brownie  being  the  last  one,  he  offered  her  his  arm  to  con- 
duct her  through  the  crowd. 

She  could  not  refuse  without  seeming  rude,  yet  she  was  keea 
enough  to  perceive  that  the  attention  would  call  down  the  dire 
displeasure  of  her  employer  upon  her  head. 

The  fringe  of  her  opera-cloak  became  entangled  upon  one  of 
the  seats  in  passing  out,  and  while  stopping  to  remove  it,  th^ 
rest  of  the  party  were  borne  along  with  the  crowd,  leaving  them 
fer  behind. 

In  the  lobby  they  encountered  an  old  gentleman  and  lady. 
In  an  instant  the  gaze  of  the  former  became  riveted  upon  Miss 
Douglas. 

He  stopped  in  her  path. 

His  face  grew  ghastly  white,  his  lips  twitched  nervously,  and 
he  breathed  as  if  terribly  agitated. 

Brownie  lifted  her  eyes,  and  was  startled  at  his  appearance. 
It  seemed  to  Iw  as  if  she  was  confronting  a madman.  He 
bent  toward  her  until  his  quick  breath  smote  her  cheek.  He 
did  not  seem  to  notice  her  companion,  all  his  faculties  were 
concentrated  upon  the  startled  girl. 

He  lifted  his  shaking  hand  and  touched  with  one  finger  that 
glittering  cross  upon  her  bosom. 

‘'There  is  but  one  cross  like  that  in  the  world,’"  he  mut- 
tered. “Girl,  girl,  where  did  you  get  it?''  he  demanded, 
hoarsely. 

Before  she  could  collect  her  scattered  senses  to  reply,  before 
tven  Mr.  Dredmond  could  interpose  to  save  her  the  annoyance 
«f  replying,  some  one  behind  cried  out : 

' “ Make  way,  there,  a lady  has  feinted 


152 


A SCENE. 


Then  the  crowd  surged  in  between  them  ; the  old  mstn  was 
borne  one  way,  Brownie  and  her  companion  the  other,  and  she 
only  caught  one  more  glimpse  of  a pair  of  deep,  fathomless 
eyes,  filled  with  keenest  pain,  a white,  set  face,  its  lips  livid  and 
rigid. 

Then  she  found  herself  in  the  fresh,  cool  air,  and  Adrian 
Dredmond  saying,  in  tones  of  apology : 

‘'You  will  excuse  him.  Miss  Douglas;  he  is  an  old  man.” 

“Certainly;  but  he  startled  me  somewhat,”  she  answered, 
drawing  a deep  breath ; and  before  she  could  ask  if  he  knew 
who  the  strange  gentleman  was,  she  found  they  were  beside  the 
Coolidge  carriage. 

“Really,  Miss  Douglas,  is  it  you  at  last?  You  have  kept  us 
waiting  until  we  are  tired,”  exclaimed  Isabel,  peevishly. 

She  was  boiling  with  rage  that  the  governess  had  secured  the 
escort  which  she  had  so  coveted. 

“I  hope  you  have  not  been  troubled,  Mr.  Dredmond,”  apol- 
ogized Mrs.  Coolidge,  graciously,  and  giving  Brownie  a with- 
ering look. 

“Oh,  no ; it  has  given  me  pleasure  to  attend  Miss  Douglas,” 
blundered  the  young  man,  saying  the  very  worst  thing  possible. 

“I  am  sorry  to  have  kept  you  waiting,  Mrs.  Coolidge,  but 
the  crowd  detained  us,  and  my  cloak  caught  upon  one  of  the 
seats,  ” explained  Brownie. 

“Crowd,  indeed!  I’ve  seen  governesses  before  this  who 
liked  to  flirt,”  sneered  the  irate  Isabel  under  her  breath. 

Both  Mr.  Dredmond  and  Miss  Douglas  caught  the  insolent 
words,  and  they  aroused  all  the  fire  in  the  young  girl’s  blood. 

With  the  air  of  a queen,  she  turned,  as  she  was  about  enter- 


A SCENE. 


153 


ihg  the  carriage,  and  holding  out  her  little  hand,  she  said  to 
Mr.  Dredmond : 

‘‘Thank  you,  Mr.  Dredmond,  for  your  kindness,  and  good- 
night.^ 

He  bowed  low  over  her  hand,  then  assisting  her  to  enter  the 
carriage,  lifted  his  hat  to  the  others  and  turned  away,  but  not 
before  he  had  noted  the  menacing  looks  cast  upon  the  poor  lit- 
tle governess  for  her  audacity. 

She's  plucky,  though,"  he  said,  with  a smile,  remembering 
her  haughty  air,  as  she  bade  him  “good-night,"  “and  they'll 
find  their  match  in  her. " 

“Miss  Douglas,  please  step  this  way  one  moment,"  Mrs. 
Coolidge  commanded,  in  icy  tones,  upon  entering  the  house. 

She  led  the  way  toward  the  library.  Brownie  following,  with 
head  erect,  and  a mien  which  even  the  fashionable  and  im- 
posing Mrs.  Coolidge  could  not  subdue. 

“I  wish  it  distinctly  understood,  Miss  Douglas,"  the  matron 
began,  with  a look  which  would  have  annihilated  the  young 
girl  had  she  possessed  less  of  the  spirit  of  heroes  within  her, 
“that  hereafter  you  are  to  receive  no  attention  from  gentlemen 
while  you  remain  in  my  employ.  Miss  Isabel's  prospects  are 
not  to  be  interfered  with  hy you."' 

Brownie’s  red  lips  curled  with  scorn. 

She  met  her  glance  proudly  and  without  the  quiver  of  a 
nerve. 

‘ ‘ Mrs.  Coolidge,  I have  not  the  slightest  desire  to  interfere  in 
any  way  with  Miss  Coolidge's  prospects.  The  occurrence  of  this 
tvening  was  wholly  unpremeditated  as  far  as  I am  concerned. 
But,  madam,  I wish  it  distinctly  understood  upon  my  part,  that 


154 


A SCENE, 


if  the  insults  to  which  I have  been  subjected  to-night  are  evec 
repeated  I shall  consider  my  connection  with  you  at  an  end.  ” 

This  was  a new  departure,  surely. 

Who  ever  knew  of  a governess  making  terms  before  with  her 
employer,  and  in  that  tone  and  spirit 

There  was  nothing  disrespectful  or  unlady-Hke  in  Miss  Doug- 
las' manner. 

But  there  was  a resolution  and  firmness  in  what  she  said 
which  plainly  indicated  that  she  had  no  intention  of  being 
crushed  or  browbeaten  by  any  human  being  upon  the  face  of 
the  earth. 

Mrs.  Coolidge  could  have  strangled  her  as  she  stood  there  in 
her  proud  beauty,  but  she  began  to  be  a little  afraid  of  her  as 
well. 

Tyrannical  spirits  are  always  cowardly. 

‘^Really,  Miss  Douglas,  it  seems  to  me  you  are  assuming  a 
great  deal  for  a dependent,"  returned  the  woman,  haughtily. 

recognize  the  fact,  madam,  that  1 am  in  b.  measure  de- 
pendent upon  your  favor ; but  I am  also  aware  that  my  services 
are  of  no  small  value  to  you.  When  I consented  to  take  charge 
of  your  daughters'  education,  I did  nof  consent  to  forfeit  my 
self-respect  by  quietly  submitting  to  any  abuse  from  any  mem- 
ber of  your  family." 

Brownie's  tone  was  very  quiet,  but  very  clear  and  firm. 

^‘What  am  I to  understand  by  this  language  from  you, 
Miss  Douglas  ?”  demanded  Mrs.  Coolidge,  nearly  choking  with 
anger. 

‘‘That  I expect  due  consideration  from  yourself  and  family, 


A SCENE. 


155 


while  I in  turn  render  you  all  proper  respect.  I wish  you 
good-night,  madam.'' 

With  a courteous  inclination  of  her  bright  head,  Brownie 
turned  and  walked  from  the  room  with  the  air  of  an  empress. 

Mrs.  Coolidge  stood  looking  after  her  for  several  minutes  in 
utter  amazement. 

Never  before  had  a governess — and  she  had  had  many — dared 
to  address  her  in  this  manner. 

Never  before  had  any  qpe  in  her  employ  presumed  to  gain- 
say her  in  the  slightest  degree. 

But  now  she  recognized  a spirit,  albeit  it  was  in  a little  body, 
that  was  superior  to  her  own,  and  it  cowed  while  it  enraged 
her. 

‘^Who  is  the  little  vixen,  I wonder  she  ejaculated,  when 
she  had  recovered  her  self-possession  somewhat.  ''She  is  evi- 
dently far  above  her  station  ; and,  judging  from  her  appearance 
to-night,  she  must  have  moved  in  society  equal  to  any  into 
which  we  are  received. " 

Doubtless  Brownie's  reply  to  Mrs.  Coolidge's  query  would 
have  been : 

‘'Madam,  I am  a Douglas  !" 

But  that  lady  knew,  as  the  young  girl  had  said,  that  she  was 
invaluable  to  her. 

Already  her  younger  daughters  were  acquiring  a fluency  of 
•peech  and  an  elegance  of  manner  which  delighted  ber,  and 
she  felt  that  it  would  not  do  to  part  with  her  cultivated  gov- 
erness for  any  light  consideration. 

She  knew  it  would  be  very  difficult  to  find  any  one,  while 
ihey  were  abroad,  who  would  prove  as  useful  in  every  respect 


156 


A SCENB. 


as  Miss  Douglas,  and  she  resolved  to  swallow  her  wrath,  and 
keep  her  at  all  hazards,  unless  Wilbur  should  fall  in  love  with 
her. 

At  all  events,  one  thing  was  settled — Miss  Douglas  should  be 
seen  no  more  in  company. 


ISABEL^ S DISCOVERY, 


157 


CHAPTER  xv; 

, ^ 
ISABEL  S DISCOVERY. 

A few  days  subsequent  to  Brownie's  interview  with  Mrs. 
Coolidge,  after  a wearisome  day  in  the  school-room,  the  young 
ladies  having  been  very  dull  and  listless,  Brownie  donned  her 
hat  and  jacket,  and  went  out  for  a stroll  by  herself. 

She  had  been  very  brave  and  defiant  while  confronting  Mrs. 
Coolidge,  but  the  reaction  followed  immediately,  and  she  had 
been  sad  and  disspirited  ever  since. 

She  felt  so  alone  in  the  world — so  weary  of  this  loveless  life. 

It  was  evident  that  she  was  looked  upon  as  a mere  machine, 
fit  only  to  make  herself  obliging  and  useful. 

To  be  sure,  there  had  been  no  more  unkind  or  insolent 
speeches,  for  Isabel  had  been  warned  by  her  mother  that  Miss 
Douglas  was  so  extremely  high-spirited  that  she  would  not  sub- 
mit to  them ; but  their  manner  to  her  was  so  arrogant  and  over- 
bearing that  it  was  absolutely  painful  to  be  in  their  presence. 

She  was  thinking  of  it  to-day  as  she  went  out,  and  tiy  as  she 
would  to  rise  above  it,  to  feel  that  it  was  beneath  her  to  notice 
anything  so  low  and  ignoble,  yet  it  did  sting  with  a keenness 
which  was  very  hard  to  bear. 

She  almost  began  to  long  for  the  old  days  in  the  straw  fee 
t©ry,  and  the  independence  of  being  her  own  mistress  again, 


158 


ISABEL^ S DISCOVERY, 


even  though  she  was  obliged  to  live  less  luxuriously  and  work 
more  laboriously. 

She  walked  briskly  on  for  a mile  or  two,  past  elegant  resi- 
dences, modern  villas,  and  ancient  halls,  wholly  unconscious 
of  the  more  direful  calamity  which  would  befall  her  upon  her 
return — of  the  fearful  cloud  about  to  burst  above  her  head, 

4:  :jc  Hp  2k  ♦ 

Isabel  Coolidge  had,  so  to  speak,  been  dying  of  envy  ever 
since  the  night  of  their  attendance  at  the  opera. 

Brownie's  appearance  upon  that  occasion  had  been  like 
worm  in  the  bud,"  gnawing  at  her  heart-strings  continually. 

How  did  Miss  Douglas  happen  to  have  such  elegant  apparel } 
Where  did  she  get  such  wonderful  jewels? 

She  did  not  believe  her  mother^s  theory  that  she  had  been 
suddenly  reduced  from  prosperity  to  poverty. 

Brownie's  manners  were  too  simple  and  unassuming  for  her 
to  believe  that  she  had  ever  been  a ‘'fine  lady." 

She  kept  revolving  the  matter  over  and  over  in  her  mind. 

The  beautifu.^  dress  that  she  had  worn,  heavy  with  its  own 
richness,  the  costly  lace,  those  wonderful  jewels,  the  frost-like 
handkerchief,  and  the  lovely  fan,  were  all  alike  a marvel  to  ner 
greedy  eyes. 

She  longed  to  know  if  she  possessed  more  like  them. 

She  could  not  conceive  how  a poor  girl,  who  had  been  forced 
first  to  go  into  a straw  factory  to  earn  her  daily  bread,  then  to  be- 
come a governess,  could  be  the  possessor  of  such  elegant  and 
expensive  articles  of  dress. 

“There  is  some  mystery  about  it,  mamma,  which  I cannot 
understand,"  she  said,  when  speaking  of  it  to  Mrs,  Coolidge, 


ISABEL^ S DISCOVERY, 


159 


‘‘My  dear,  I tell  you  she  must  have  belonged  to  some 
vealthy  family  who  suddenly  lost  their  property ; such  things 
lappen  every  day/' 

“But  if  that  is  the  case  she  could  easily  have  sold  her  beau- 
iful  things— 'those  jewels  alone  would  have  brought  a hand- 
;ome  sum,  upon  which  she  could  have  lived  a long  time.”  I 

“Perhaps  they  are  heir-looms,  and  she  does  not  like  to  part 
vith  them.  ” 

“Heir-looms } Pshaw ! what  can  a poor  girl  want  with  heir- 
00ms  ? It  seems  to  me  that  bread  and  butter  would  be  the 
irst  point  demanding  consideration.  ” 

“Well,  at  all  events,  it  did  not  seem  to  be  with  her,  as  far  as 
acrificing  her  jewels  goes,”  returned  Mrs.  Coolidge. 

“Mamma,  I tell  you  I don't  believe  the  girl  came  by  them 
mnestly,'’  Isabel  said,  impressively,  after  a few  moments  of 
leep  thought. 

■ “Why,  child,  you  do  not  mean  to  say  that  you  believe  the 
;irl  is  a thief  exclaimed  her  mother,  aghast. 

“It  is  an  ugly  word,  I know,  but  you  said  yourself  that  you 
‘onsidered  her  artful. '' 

“Yes,  I think  she  is  about  attracting  the  attention  of  gentle- 
ncn ; although,  with  her  drooping  eyes  and  unconscious  man- 
ner, one  less  versed  in  the  ways  of  the  world  would  say  she  was 
be  impersonation  of  modesty.” 

“I  hate  such  prudish  airs,  and  I do  not  think  there  will  be 
ny  harm  in  watching  her.” 

! Miss  Isabel  had  registered  a mental  vow  that  she  should  watch 
:ae  despised  governess,  and  that  no  means  would  be  illegitimat# 


l6o  ISABEL'S  DISCOVERY. 

which  would  reveal  her  past  history,  or  bring  to  light  anything 
to  prove  her  unworthy  the  place  she  occupied. 

Since  Adrian  Dredmond’s  evident  attraction  toward  her  on 
the  night  of  the  opera,  she  had  resolved  that  Brownie  Douglas 
and  she  should  not  live  long  in  the  same  house. 

With  these  thoughts  continually  in  her  mind,  she  had  kept 
ap  a constant  espionage  upon  the  governess'  actions,  and  to- 
day, when  she  saw  her  leave  the  house,  equipped  for  a long 
walk,  she  concluded  that  the  right  time  had  come  to  carry  out 
certain  plans  which  she  had  formed. 

Watching  her  opportunity,  when  no  one  was  about,  she 
slipped  quietly  into  Miss  Douglas'  room,  and  locked  the  door 
after  her. 

She  had  never  deigned  to  enter  there  before,  and  she  was 
now  surprised  to  find  how  tastefully  everything  was  arranged. 

She  noticed  the  few  choice  pictures  upon  the  walls,  and  here 
and  there  an  exquisite  little  statuette  or  article  of  bronze — those ; 
relics  of  Brownie's  beautiful  home  in  Philadelphia,  which  she' 
dearly  loved. 

She  went  to  her  dressing-case,  and  was  surprised  at  the  ele-« 
gance  of  her  toilet  appurtenances.  She  had  none  so  rich  ! 

One  little  thing  in  particular  struck  her. 

It  was  an  exquisite  case  of  Russia  leather,  with  the  mitials 
*'E.  H."  engraven  in  gilt  upon  its  handle. 

She  opened  it,  and  an  exclamation  of  delight  escaped  her. 

Within  were  six  tiny  flasks  of  cut  glass,  with  gold  stoppers, 
filled  with  choicest  perfumes,  upoa  each  of  which  the  same 
letters  were  cut 


ISABEL'S  DISCOVERY. 


l6l 


^'Ah,  ha!  'E.  H./  that  does  not  stand  for  Mehetabel 
Douglas  V*  she  said,  with  a sinister  smile. 

She  took  them  out,  one  by  one,  removing  their  gold  stop- 
pers and  inhaling  the  delicious  perfume  with  which  they  were 
filled. 

Suddenly  her  attention  was  attracted  by  a folded  paper  in  the 
bottom  of  the  case. 

She  took  it  up,  opened  it,  and  read,  in  a gentleman's  hand- 
writing : 

‘‘My  Darling:- — To-morrow  will  be  our  wedding-day.  I 
cannot  come  to  you  to-day,  as  I promised,  but  I send  my  little 
gift  to  help  grace  your  table.  I pray  Heaven  that  the  fragrance 
which  this  little  case  contains  may  be  but  the  emblem  of  your 
future  life  with  me.  Ever  thine,  William. " 

Could  it  be  that  Miss  Douglas  had  been  tich,  and  about  to 
be  married,  and  then  disappointed  ? 

There  was  no  date,  and  no  name  but  that  of  William,  to  give 
the  prying  girl  any  clew  as  to  the  author  of  the  note. 

No,  this  could  have  been  no  wedding-gift  intended  for  her, 
or  the  initials  would  have  been  different. 

She  replaced  the  note,  also  the  bottles,  and  then  turned  hei 
attention  to  other  things,  but  becoming  more  and  more  con- 
vinced of  Brownie's  dishonesty. 

She  opened  the  bureau  drawers,  and  was  surprised  to  find 
several  other  articles  mi^rked  with  the  same  initials. 

Two  or  three  sets  of  undergarments,  trimmed  with  costly 
laces  and  embroideries,  a couple  of  handkerchiefs,  which  made 
her  eyes  water  to  look  at  them,  an  emerald  ring,  and  a pear] 
pin. 


i62 


ISABEL'S  DISCOVERY. 


She  found  Brownie’s  jewel-box,  containing  only  a few  plain 
articles  of  jewelry,  and  one  or  two  sets  of  jet,  which  she  had 
purchased  since  her  aunt’s  death,  and  the  cufiF-button,  the  mate 
to  which  was  in  Adrian  Dredmond’s  possession. 

But  the  jeweled  cross  and  hair  ornament  were  not  to  be  found 
there. 

‘ ‘ I wonder  where  she  keeps  them  ?”  Miss  Coolidge  solilo- 
quized, as,  after  examining  all  the  drawers,  she  turned  her  gaze 
about  the  room. 

Her  eye  fell  upon  a large  writing-desk,  which  stood  upon  a 
table  at  the  further  side  of  the  room.  . ; 

She  went  over  to  it,  and  tried  to  raise  the  lid. 

It  was  locked,  and  the  key  removed. 

“ Bother  !”  was  her  impatient  and  inelegant  exclamation. 

She  then  began  to  search  for  the  key,  feeling  sure  that  the 
jewels  were  within  the  writing-desk. 

Now,  Brownie  had  not  a thought  that  any  one  would  be 
guilty  of  such  meanness  as  to  overhaul  her  property  during  her 
absence,  and  scarcely  ever  kept  anything  locked,  excepting  her 
writing-desk. 

No  one  had  access  to  her  room  except  Mary,  the  chamber- 
maid, and  she  had  the  utmost  confidence  in  her,  for,  having 
treated  the  girl  with  great  kindness,  she  was  deeply  attached  to 
her,  and  was  constantly  affirming  that  “Miss  Douglas  were 
more  of  a rale  leddy  than  them  who  purtended  to  be  her  bet- 
ters.” 

Brownie’s  keys,  which  were  held  together  in  a bunch  by  I 
steel  ring,  now  hung  by  one  of  their  number  in  the  trunk  froBI 


ISABEL  ’5  DISCO  VER  K 1 63 

which  she  had  taken  her  evening  dress  on  the  xiight  of  the 
opera. 

On  her  return,  she  had  first  removed  her  jewels  and  returned 
them  to  their  casket,  then  replaced  her  dress  in  the  trunk,  just 
turning  the  key,  and  leaving  it  in  the  lock.  . 

Isabel's  quick  eye  soon  caught  sight  of  them,  and,  with  a cry 
of  pleasure,  she  darted  across  the  room  to  secure  them,  then 
returned  to  the  desk,  and  finally  succeeded  in  fitting  the  right 
key  in  its  lock. 

The  desk,  in  itself,  was  nothing  remarkable,  for  it  had  seen 
long  usage,  but  its  contents  were  rare  and  lovely. 

A golden  penholder  and  pen  lay  within  ; also  an  elaborate 
paper-knife  of  the  same  metal ; a silver  paper-weight  of  ex- 
quisite workmanship  and  design;  a seal  of  onyx,  in  which 
blazed  a huge  ruby;  besides  several  other  things;  and  all  these, 
were  marked  with  the  same  initials,  '‘E.  H." 

Isabel  lifted  the  inner  lid,  and,  behold ! the  casket  of  ebony, 
inlaid  with  pearl,  which  Miss  Mehetabel  had  given  Brownie  on 
that  last  day  of  her  life,  was  within. 

There  were  also  several  packages  of  letters  and  papers,  but  to 
tliese  she  paid  no  heed. 

‘"I  h^’e  found  them,"  she  cried,  and  was  about  to  seize  the 
casket,  when  she  caught  the  sound  of  a footstep  outside  the 
door. 

Her  heart  stood  still  with  fear,  and  cold  chills  crept  down  her 
back. 

She  had  not  dreamed  that  Miss  Douglas  would  return  so 
soon,  for  ihe  had  heard  her  Ull  Alma  she  would  be  gone  for  an 
hour  or  more. 


7* 


1 64  ISABEL  ’ S DISCO  VER  F. 

She  would  not  be  caught  in  this  contemptible  act  for  all  the 
Jewels  in  the  queen's  crown,  and  she  began  to  look  about  for 
some  way  of  escape. 

A hand  was  laid  upon  the  door-knob,  and  it  turned.  A 
moment's  silence,  and  it  was  tried  again — this  time  with  more 
force. 

Then  a voice  called  : 

‘'Miss  Douglas,  please,  may  I come  in  a moment?" 

It  was  Viola's ; and  Isabel  grew  faint  with  a sense  of  relief, 
but  she  stood  silent,  scarcely  daring  to  breathe,  lest  she  should 
be  heard,  and  her  sister  insist  upon  coming  in. 

Presently  she  heard  Alma  call  out : 

“Viola,  Miss  Douglas  is  not  there ; she  has  gone  out  for  a . 
walk." 

Then  the  steps  moved  away,  and  the  guilty  girl  was  obliged 
to  sit  down  to  gather  strength,  before  she  could  continue  her  | 
investigations.  Cowardice  and  guilt  are  inseparable.  j 

She  dare  not  wait  long,  however,  and  soon  turned  her  atten-  jj 
tion  to  the  ebony  casket  again.  ,i 

Fortunately  for  her,  the  little  golden  key,  with  its  curious  ; 
chain  attached,  was  in  the  lock. 

Brownie  had  forgotten  to  clasp  it  about  her  neck  again  after 
replacing  the  jewels. 

As  she  was  about  turning  the  key  she  hesitated,  while  a feel- 
ing of  her  own  meanness  stole  over  her. 

“If  I didn't  mistrust  the  girl,  I wouldn’t  do  it,"  she  apolo- 
gized to  herself.  Then  she  added:  “If  she  is  not  what  she 
pretends,  of  course  it  is  better  for  us  to  know  it  before  the  girls 


ISABEL  ’ 5 DISCO  VER  Y.  165 

become  contaminated;  but  if  I do  not  discover  anything,  why, 
then  it  is  all  right/' 

With  this  bit  of  doubtful  sophistry  in  her  mind,  she  turned 
the  key  and  lifted  the  lid. 

The  sight  which  greeted  her  dazzled  her,  even  as  it  had 
Brownie  when  she  had  first  looked  upon  those  treasures. 

There  lay  the  coral  cross  and  the  butterfly  hair  ornament,  fot 
which  she  had  been  seeking,  but  she  almost  lost  sight  of  them 
while  gazing  upon  those  others,  of  tenfold  more  value  and 
beauty. 

'^Now  I know  she  is  a thief  \”  murmured  the  astonished  girl, 
when  she  had  somewhat  recovered  from  her  surprise.  x It  is 
not  possible, " she  added,  ‘‘that  any  girl  of  her  age,  outside  of 
royalty  itself,  could  ever  be  the  rightful  possessessor  of  such 
magnificence  as  this.  Why,  there  is  a fortune  here, " she  went 
on;  “and  no  one  need  tell  me  that  a girl  would  choose  to  work 
for  her  daily  bread  when  she  has  the  means  of  living  in  luxury 
in  her  possession.  But  no,  it  is  evident  that  she  has  stolen 
them,  and  does  not  dare  to  sell  them  for  fear  of  detection. 
Yes,  and  she  must  have  stolen  all  those  other  things  marked 
‘E.  H."  What  a creature  we  have  been  harboring!  I imagine 
Wilbur  and  Mr.  Dredmond  will  not  think  her  quite  so  charm- 
ing when  they  come  to  know  that  her  dainty  hands  have  been 
guilty  of  kleptomania.  How  exquisite,”  she  said,  bending 
over  them  and  touching  the  precious  stones  with  her  white 
fingers.  “This  diamond  necklace  is  fit  for  a princess.  It  is 
like  some  faiiy  story,  or  like  a vision  from  Aladdin's  palace. 
But  what  shall  I do  about  them  ?''  she  asked,  after  she  had  in- 
spected them  all.  “If  she  has  stolen  them,  as  I do  not  doubt 


i66 


ISABEL^ S DISCOVERY, 


she  has,  they  certainly  ought  not  to  be  left  in  her  possession.  1 
will  take  them  to  mamma,  and  ask  her  what  shall  be  done  with 
them.” 

\ With  this  decision  arrived  at,  Isabel  closed  the  lid  of  the 
casket,  remarking  its  beautiful  inlaid  cover  as  she  did  so ; then, 
removing  it  from  the  desk,  she  shut  and  locked  that,  and  re- 
stored the  keys  to  the  trunk  where  she  had  found  them.  Then 
she  sped  swiftly  to  her  mother  s boudoir,  devoutly  hoping  that 
Brownie  would  not  return  until  she  had  displayed  her  treasures 
to  her,  made  her  explanation,  and  they  could  decide  what  wa? 
best  to  be  done  about  the  matter. 

If  the  truth  had  been  known,  the  meddlesome  girl  had  4 
secret  longing  to  possess  those  jewels  hersel£ 


A TERRIBLE  A CCUSA  TION, 


167 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

A TERRIBLE  ACCUSATION. 

Mrs,  Coolidge  locked  up  with  a frown,  as  Isabel  entered  the 
room. 

“Where  have  you  been  so  long?"'  she  asked.  “I  have 
wanted  you  to  arrange  about  your  dress  for  Lady  Peasewelfs 
drawing-room  next  week.” 

“Don't  scold,  mamma;  I have  had  an  adventure,  and  I will 
tell  you  all  about  it  as  soon  as  I can  get  my  breath,  ” said  Isabel, 
sinking  upon  a sofa,  breathless,  from  her  haste  to  reach  h^r 
mother's  apartments. . 

“What  have  you  there.?*'  demanded  Mrs.  Coolidge,  as  sh« 
caught  sight  of  the  casket  which  her  daughter  carried. 

“You  remember,  mamma,  what  I said  about  Miss  Douglas 
being  the  possessor  of  such  elegant  jewels  ?''  she  said,  not  heed- 
ing the  question. 

“Yes;  you  said  you  did  not  believe  she  came  by  them  hon- 
Bstly.  Why?” 

“I  am  sure  of  it  now.  Look  here  !” 

She  suddenly  threw  back  the  lid  of  the  casket,  and  placed  it 
in  her  mother's  lap. 

“Merciful  heavens,  child  1 Where  did  you  get  these  ? Ah!” 
she  continued,  as  Isabel  did  not  reply,  “here  are  the  very  orna- 
ments which  Miss  Douglas  wore  the  other  evening.” 


i68 


A TERRIBLE  A CCUSA  TION, 


She  looked  up  at  her  daughter,  and  the  two  read  each  other  s 
faces  in  silence  for  a moment. 

You  do  not  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  found  all  these  in  her 
possession  she  at  length  asked,  in  a low  tone. 

‘‘I  do,  mamma,"'  Isabel  said,  impressively. 

‘‘But  how  did  you  happen  to  discover  them.?  Surely,  my 
daughter,  you  have  not  been  guilty  of  prying  into  her  things 
daring  her  absence,"  said  Mrs.  Coolidge,  gravely. 

Isabel  colored  violently. 

“I  have,  mamma.  I should  think  it  was  time  some  one  in- 
vestigated matters,  when  we  have  a governess  in  the  house  pos- 
sessing such  treasures.  I believed  her  guilty  of  theft,  and  I was 
determined  that  the  girls  should  not  remain  under  her  influence 
if  anything  could  be  proved  against  her.  So  I set  myself  to 
work ; and  I think  when  you  have  examined  the  contents  of 
that  box,  and  hear  what  I have  to  tell  you,  that  you  will  con- 
clude that  she  is  no  fit  instructress  your  daughters." 

“Isabel,  I am  afraid  you  have  done  a very  unwise  thing," 
remarked  her  mother,  thoughtfully,  with  her  eyes  still  fixed 
upon  the  jewels. 

“How  so.?" 

“We  cannot  prove  that  she  stole  a single  article  in  her  pos- 
session. " 

“Why,  she  has  quantities  of  beautiful  things,  marked  with 
the  initials  E.  H." 

And  Isabel  explained  about  the  case  of  golden-stoppered 
perfumery  flasks,  and  the  contents  of  the  writing-desk  ; also 
about  the  note. 

“If she  is  light-fingered,  you  don't  want  her  here;  she’ll  be 


A TERRIBLE  ACCUSATION.  169 

adding  to  her  stock  by  appropriating  our  treasures,”  concluded 
the  heartless  girl. 

‘^No;  if  she  is  that  kind  of  a person,  she  ought  not  to  be 
allowed  to  remain.” 

‘‘Well,  do  you  believe  that  any  girl  in  her  circumstances 
could  be  the  honest  possessor  of  that  fortune  ?”  Isabel  asked, 
pointing  toward  the  gleaming  jewels. 

‘‘N-o,  Tm  afraid  not.  Yet  I dislike,  of  all  things,  that  you 
should  have  got  them  in  the  way  you  have.” 

Mrs.  Coolidge  took  up  the  diamond  necklace,  and  it  sparkled 
in  her  hands  like  huge  drops  of  dew  in  the  sun. 

‘‘Very  well;  I will  replace  them  at  once,  mamma,  if  you 
think  best,  and  we  will  say  no  more  about  it,”  replied  her 
daughter,  cunningly. 

She  had  noticed  the  avaricious  gleam  in  her  mother's  eyes  as 
they  contemplated  their  beauty,  and  she  knew  she  would  give 
as  much  to  possess  them  as  she  would  herself. 

“That  would  never  do,  my  daughter.  I should  not  rest 
easy  while  there  is  a suspicion  against  Miss  Douglas'  honesty  in 
my  heart.  There  is  only  one  thing  to  be  done  now.  ” 

“What  is  that.?” 

“We  must  demand  an  explanation  of  her  immediately  upon 
her  return.” 

“Of  course,  she  has  a trumped-up  story  of  2»ome  kind;  she 
is  too  artful  not  to  be  prepared  for  us.” 

“ She  will  have  to  prove  her  property,  my  dear  At  all  events, 
I shall  advise  her  to  dispose  of  them  in  soma  way.  It  is  not 
proper  for  a governess  to  have  such  valuables.” 

“Perhaps  she  would  sell  them  to  us,  mamma,”  said  Isabel, 


170 


A TERRIBLE  A CCUSA  TIOM. 


a greedy  look  in  her  eyes.  “That  tiara  would  be  vastly  be- 
coming to  me. 

“They  are  the  most  exquisite  jewels  I have  ever  seen  in  my 
life,  and  the  settings  are  peculiar.  But  what  is  there  under- 
neath.? Have  you  looked,  Isabel Mrs.  Coolidge  asked,  find- 
ing the  velvet  bed  was  movable. 

“No;  I was  so  startled  at  finding  such  an  array  that  I did 
not  stop  to  make  any  further  investigations,  but  brought  them 
directly  to  you.” 

Mrs.  Coolidge  lifted  the  velvet  bed 

“What  have  we  here?”  she  exclaimea,  as  she  saw  the  enam- 
eled locket  studded  with  diamonds. 

With  breathless  curiosity  she  touched  the  spring,  and  it  flew 
open,  revealing  the  noble  face  of  Lord  Dunforth. 

“Who  can  it  be,  mamma?”  asked  Isabel,  with  wonder-wide 
eyes.  r 

“I  do  not  know;  no  one  who  belongs  to  Miss  Douglas,*  I 
fancy,  from  his  looks.  How  strangely  he  is  dressed — like  some 
court  gentleman.  ” 

“And  what  is  this?”  said  Isabel,  taking  up  the  card  that  lay 
beneath.  Then  she  cried  out:  “Why,  mamma,  it  is  a danc- 
ing list,  and  look  ! here  are  the  names  of  counts  and  lords ! 
Do  you  believe  now  that  Miss  Douglas  ever  came  by  these 
things  honestly?”  she  demanded,  in  tones  of  triumph. 

“No,  Isabel,  I do  not,”  returned  her  mother,  with  firm-set 
lips;  “and  I shall  inquire  into  it  immediately  on  her  return.” 

“What  could  a young  girl  eighteen  years  old — a poor  girl 
without  a penny,  too,  and  who  had  never  been  out  of  her  own 
country  before,  know  of  lords  and  counts  ?” 


A TERRIBLE  ACCUSATION. 


171 

The  idea  was  absurd. 

There  was  a mystery  about  the  whole  thing,  a tantalizing 
mystery,  which  both  women  were  eager  to  solve. 

Evidently  Miss  Douglas  had  seen  better  days,  they  reasoned, 
or  she  could  never  have  received  the  excellent  education  she 
possessed ; but  then  any  enterprising  person  in  moderate  cir^ 
cumstances  could  acquire  that  under  the  training  of  the  first- 
class  schools  which  are  found  in  most  of  the  larger  cities  of  the 
United  States. 

While  these  thoughts  were  passing  through  the  mind  of  Mrs. 
Coolidge,  she  heard  the  hall  door  open  and  close,  and  Brownie'^ 
voice  in  cheerful  conversation  with  Wilbur. 

He  had  joined  her  by  accident  (?)  while  she  was  walking,  and 
had  made  himself  so  entertaining  and  agreeable  that  the  clouds 
upon  her  face  had  all  been  driven  away. 

She  tripped  gayly  up  stairs,  wholly  unconscious  of  the  thun- 
derbolt awaiting  her. 

Isabel  confronted  her  as  she  reached  the  top  stairs. 

Mamma  would  like  to  see  you  in  her  dressing-room  imme- 
diately, Miss  Douglas,''  she  said,  haughtily. 

She  colored  at  the  tone  and  manner,  but,  wholly  unconscious 
of  any  coming  evil,  she  obeyed  the  summons  as  soon  as  she 
had  removed  her  hat  and  jacket. 

She  found  Mrs.  Coolidge  sitting  cold  and  dignified  in  her 
arm-chair. 

‘•'Be  seated.  Miss  Douglas,"  she  said,  solemnly.  “I  wish 
to  speak  to  you  upon  a matter  of  importance. " 

Brownie  sat  down,  her  clear  eyes  wide  with  wonder  at  her  ro' 
ception. 


172 


A TERRIBLE  A CCUSA  TION, 


There  was  a moment's  awkward  silence,  the  lady  of  the  house 
hardly  knowing  how  to  commence. 

‘‘Ahem  she  began,  shifting  her  glance  from  the  clear,  in- 
nocent eyes,  which  she  had  thought  must  have  fallen  before  her 
accusing  look.  “Ahem  ! Miss  Douglas,  I have  sent  for  you  to 
ask  what  may  seem  a strange  question ; Nevertheless,  I feel  it 
to  be  a to  myself  and  family  to  ask  it.” 

Brownie's  fair  face  began  to  change  color  again. 

Mrs.  Coolidge  noticed  it,  and  her  assurance  was  restored. 

‘T,  of  course,  expect  you  will  give  me  a straightforward 
reply,”  she  added,  impressively. 

The  shining  brown  head  was  lifted  a trifle,  her  delicate  nos- 
trils dilated,  while  an  unwonted  spark  lighted  those  beautiful 
eyes,  which  never  for  a moment  left  the  matron's  face. 

S/if  requested  to  give  a straightforward  answer  1 

When  had  she  ever  done  otherwise  ? 

“I  wish  to  ask  you.  Miss  Douglas,”  Mrs.  Coolidge  said, 
coming  to  the  point  at  once,  and  feeling  very  uncomfortable 
beneath  her  look,  “if  you  have  anything  in  your  possession 
which  does  not  honestly  belong  to  you  ?” 

She  now  fixed  her  stern  gaze  full  upon  the  beautiful  face. 
The  battle  was  begun,  and  she  was  prepared  to  fight  it  out. 

For  an  instant  all  three — for  Isabel  had  returned  to  the  room, 
and  now  stood  behind  her  mother's  chair,  where  she  could 
watch  her  rival — could  distinctly  hear  the  ticking  of  Mrs.  Cool- 
idge's  watch,  which  lay  upon  the  dressing-table  at  her  side. 

Then  Brownie  arose,  and  stood  like  an  insulted  princess  be- 
fore her  inquisitor. 


A TERkIBLE  A CCUSA  TION. 


^73 


‘‘Madam,  I ask — nay,  I demand — to  know  why  you  putsudh 
a question  to  me  !*'  she  said,  in  low,  firm  tones. 

Her  face  had  grown  white  as  the  narrow  linen  collar  which 
she  wore,  and  her  eyes  burned  dangerously. 

\ “You  forget  yourself.  Miss  Douglas,''  Mrs.  Coolidge  said, 
j)ompously.  “It  was  I who  asked a question." 

“And  I consider  such  a question  an  insult,  madam  !" 

“Very  well;  I expected  you  would;  all  people  who  are 
guilty  of  wrong  feel  insulted,  or  appear  to,  when  they  are  ac- 
cused. ” 

“Guilty  of  wrong!  accused!  I do  not  understand  you, 
madam.  Of  what  do  you  accuse  me demanded  the  young 
girl,  with  a proud  dignity  which  her  employer  had  not  expected 
from  her. 

She  began  to  feel  a little  shaky,  but  she  was  in  for  it  now, 
and  must  go  on. 

“I  accuse  you  of  having  stolen  costly  articles  and  appropri- 
ating them  to  your  own  use,"  she  said,  solemnly. 

“ Explain  yourself,  if  you  please,  Mrs.  Coolidge." 

Those  brown  eyes  were  almost  black  now,  but  her  answer 
was  intensely  quiet,  and  the  lovely  face  like  a snow-flake. 

“Allow  me  to  ask  you  one  question  before  I explain." 

“Certainly." 

, “How  came  you  by  those  beautiful  jewels,  those  very  costly 
. ornaments,  which  you  wore  to  the  opera  last  Wednasday  even- 
ing?" 

“They  were  given  to  me,  madam." 

“By  whom?" 

■‘By  a very  dear  friend. " 


5 74 


A TERRIBLE  A CCUSA  TION, 


There  was  a quiver  in  the  sweet  voice,  a trembling  of  the 
scarlet  lips,  but  the  lovely  eyes  were  bright  and  tearless. 

"‘How  long  have  they  been  in  your  possession?”  continued 
Mrs.  Coolidge. 

‘‘A  little  over  three  months,  madam.” 

Mamma,  mamma,  does  not  that  prove  enough?*'  burst  out 
Isabel,  triumphantly.  ‘‘Why,  she  has  been  with  wj*  over  two 
months,  and  she  worked  in  the  factory  three  weeks.  Who 
would  give  a poor  girl  such  jewels  as  those?” 

Brownie's  only  reply  to  this  outburst  was  a look  of  ineffable 
scorn,  and  the  elder  lady  went  on  in  a severe  tone  : 

“I  fear.  Miss  Douglas,  that  your  stoiy  is  against  you.  When 
you  sought  employment  from  my  husband  you  were  in  such 
circumstances  that  you  were  obliged  to  toil  for  your  daily 
bread.” 

A proud  inclination  of  her  head  was  all  the  reply  to  this 
query.  She  dare  not  trust  her  voice  just  then. 

“And  you  say  these  jewels  were  given  to  you  about  that 
time  ?” 

Another  bow. 

“The  rich  clothing,  and  other  trifles  which  you  have,  weie 
they  given  to  you  also  ?” 
madam  r 

“And  all  by  this  same  dear  friend 

A peculiar  look  accompanied  this  question,  while  Isabel's, 
jyes  gleamed  in  wicked  triumph. 

She  could  see  whither  these^uestions  were  tending,  if  inncK 
cent  Brownie  did  not.  ' ■ 

‘ ‘ They  were,  ” she  said.  J 


A TERRIBLE  ACCUSATION, 


m 


‘'Was  this  friend  2.  gentleman^  Miss  Douglas?* 

For  one  moment  there  came  into  the  young  girl's  lovely  eyes 
a look  of  perplexity  and  astonishment,  followed  by  one  of  blank 
horror.  ; 

Then  all  the  royal  blood  in  her  Douglas'  veins  sprang  to 
arms ! 

The  rich  color  surged  up  from  her  enraged  heart  over  her 
neck  and  face;  up,  up,  as  the  full  force  of  this  horrible  thought 
nearly  drove  her  mad,  until  it  lost  itself  among  the  bands  of 
shining  hair,  and  tingled  to  her  finger  tips.  Then  it  all  re- 
ceded, leaving  her  colorless  as  marble,  and,  in  her  proud  indig- 
nation, like  some  avenging  spirit. 

“Mrs.  Coolidge,"  she  said,  in  the  same  quiet,  lady-like  tones, 
but  they  made  the  wojna-ii  shiver  notwithstanding,  “your  lan- 
guage and  insinuation  is  the  grossest  insult  to  me,  and  again  I 
demand  an  immediate  explanation. " 

“Isabel,  bring  me  that  box,"  said  Mrs.  Coolidge,  pointing 
to  Brownie's  casket,  which  stood  upon  the  table  behind  her. 

Miss  Coolidge  obeyed,  and  Brownie  uttered  a cry  of  aston- 
ishment as  she  saw  it. 

“How  came  you  by  that?  Where  did  you  get  it  ?*  she  said, 
starting  forward,  her  lips  quivering,  and  a choking  sensation  m 
her  throat 

Her  dear,  precious  casket,  still  sacred  from  the  last  fond 
touches  of  Miss  Mchetabel's  hand,  profaned  by  their  ruthless 
handling ! 

It  was  almost  more  than  her  tender  heart  could  bear.  She 
•carcely  ever  looked  upon  it  without  weeping,  for  it  recalled  so 
vividly  that  last  happy  day  with  her  aunt 


176 


A TERRIBLE  A CCUSA  TION. 


But  all  this  emotion  was  but  an  evidence  of  guilt  in  the  eyea 
of  those  hard-hearted  women. 

‘‘Is  not  that  guilt,  mamma,  if  you  ever  saw  it?''  whisp)ered 
Isabel  in  her  mother  s ear. 

I She  nodded  her  head  sternly,  and  then  turned  to  face  her 
victim  again. 

“I  will  explain,  Miss  Douglas.  The  jewels  which  you  wore 
to  the  opera  are  in  this  box  with  others  ®f  much  greater  value. 
Were  these  others  given  to  you?" 

“They  were." 

“At  the  same  time?" 

“At  the  same  time,  Mrs.  Coolidge." 

“By  whom?" 

“I  decline  to  answer  that  question,  madam,"  came  defiantly 
from  the  young  girl's  compressed  lips. 

She  had  been  insulted,  abused ; she  would  bear  nothing 
more  from  them. 

They — these  evil-minded,  jealous  women — had  gone  to  her 
room  like  thieves  and  hunted  among  her  possessions  to  satisfy 
their  low-born  curiosity,  and  having  found  something  which 
they  could  not  clearly  understand,  they  were  determined  t® 
make  use  of  it  to  crush  he" 

Should  they  crush  her? 

M/ 

She  knew  it  would  be  of  no  use  to  try  to  prove  to  them  that 
those  jewels  were  her  own.  They  would  not  believe  her  word, 
and  she  had  not  a friend  in  that  strange  land  who  could  stand 
by  her,  to  protect  her  against  their  hatred  and  envy. 

But  she  would  defy  them  to  the  last. 


A TERRIBLE  ACCUSATION. 


TJ^ 

She  would  not  submit  longer  to  stand  before  them  like  some 
Tictim  of  the  inquisition,  and  answer  their  insulting  questions. 

Mrs.  Coolidge  could  scarcely  restrain  her  anger  at  Brownie's 
defiance.  She  was  very  curious  to  know  the  history  of  those 
jewels,  that  attractive  picture,  and  that  dancing  card  with  its 
high-sounding  names. 

* ‘ Am  I to  understand  that  you  refuse  to  clear  yourself  from 
the  suspicion  which  rests  upon  you  V'  she'^asked,  growing  white 
with  anger. 

^ ‘ Madam,  I question  your  right  to  arraign  me  before  you  in 
this  manner,  as  I also  question  your  right  to  enter  my  room  in 
my  absence,  pry  into  my  affairs,  and  abstract  from  under  lock 
and  key  things  which  belong  to  me. " ' 

Whose  picture  is  this.^^"  demanded  Mrs.  Coolidge,  taking 
up  the  jeweled  locket  and  looking  again  upon  that  noble  face. 

She  ignored  entirely  Brownie's  indignant  protest,  although 
she  colored  deeply,  for  she  knew  that  if  Miss  Douglas  owned 
that  box  with  its  contents  she  and  Isabel  were  the  thieves, 
decline  answering,"  said  Brownie,  firmly. 

She  could  hardly  refrain  from  crying  out  with  pain  to  see 
those  sacred  relics  of  a lost  love  and  a shattered  life  thus  pro- 
fened  by  th«ir  rude  handling. 

^‘Beware,  Miss  Douglas;  this  defiance  goes  against  you,  and 
1 fear  will  be  your  ruin  if  you  persist  in  it,"  said  the  woman, 
majestically ; then  she  added,  feeling  that  she  needed  to  make 
some  explanation  : ‘'You  see  that  it  is  something  very  unusual 
for  a poor  person  like  you  to  have  such  rich  apparel  and  jewelry 
in  her  possession.  We  invite  you  to  go  to  the  opera.  We  do 


A TERRIBLE  A CCUSA  TIOM, 


I 


178 


not  wish  you  to  wear  black,  and  ask  you  to  wear  some  othd 
color.  You  appear  more  elegantly  clad  than  any  member  of 
my  family,  and  you  tell  Viola  that  it  is  the  simplest  dress  you 
have.  Now,  what  are  we  to  think?  Would  not  any  mother 
having  daughters  desire  to  investigate  the  matter?  You  say 
these  things  were  all  given  to  you  at  the  same  time  and  by  the 
same  person,  and  only  three  months  ago.  Can  you  not  see 
how  very  improbable  such  a statement  appears,  when'we  know 
that  you  have  been  toiling  for  your  daily  bread  nearly  the  whole 
of  that  time?  It  would  have  taken  a small  fortune,''  she  went 
on,  after  an  impressive  pause,  ‘'from  any  one,  to  buy  all  these 
precious  stones  at  one  time,  and  young  girls  like  you  are  not 
in  the  habit  of  receiving  so  much  at  once.  Why,  Isabel  thinks 
herself  fortunate  to  get  one  piece  of  diamond  jewelry  at  a time. 
Besides  all  this,  I find  here  a card  with  the  names  of  counts 
and  lords  upon  it.  We  do  not  have  counts  and  lords  in  Amer- 
ica ; you  have  never  been  abroad  before,  consequently  I know 
you  have  never  had  any  acquaintance  with  persons  of  such  high 
degree.  Here  is  also  a glove  marked  six  and  a half — I happen 
to  know  that  you  wear  a six. " 

This  was  said  with  a frowning  look  at  the  little  white  hands, 
which  were  folded  in  a clasp  of  pain,  and  hanging  against  the 
^ folds  of  her  sable  dress. 

“You  refuse  also  to  give  me  the  name  of  the  young  man  in 
the  locket.  Now,  /can  account  for  all  this  in  two  ways  only." 

Mrs.  Coolidge,  as  she  made  this  statement,  bent  her  stern 
upon  the  pale  face  and  downcast  eyes  of  the  haughty  girl 
before  her,  and  thought  she  could  see  guilt  in  every  feature. 
Sae  thought  she  had  very  cleverly  aigued  the  matter,  and 


A TERRIBLE  ACCUSATION. 


179 


paused  a moment,  well  satisfied  with  herself,  before  clinching 
her  point. 

*‘And  those  are,''  she  continued,  in  a hard,  unfeeling  voice, 
^^you  have  either  stolen  them  from  some  wealthy  families  with  whom 

you  have  served,  or " 

Madam  1" 

The  downcast  eyes  were  raised  now,  and  the  fire  which 
flashed  from  them  seemed  almost  to  sear  the  heartless  woman's 
face. 

‘T  dare  say,  mamma,  she  was  waiting-maid  in  some  rich 
family,  and  came  by  them  in  that  way,"  put  in  Isabel,  spite-* 
fully. 

‘‘Do  not  interrupt  me,  Isabel.  Miss  Douglas,  please  wait 
until  I finish  before  you  make  any  remarks,"  Mrs.  Coolidge 
said,  coldly,  with  a wave  of  her  hand ; then  continued  : “As 
I was  saying,  I think  you  either  stole  them,  or  you  have  had 
relations  with  some  person  which  would  debar  you  from  ever  enters 
ing  any  respectable  family,  though  I cannot  conceive  how  any  ont 

could  be  such  a fool  as  to  lavish  so  much  upon  a " 

Cease!"  came  in  a hoarse  whisper  from  Brownie's  lovely 
lips,  which  had  grown  of  the  color  of  ashes,  and  were  quiver- 
ing with  insulted  pride  and  anger,  while  her  heart  stood  still 
with  horror. 

The  word  checked  Mrs.  Coolidge  in  spite  of  her  insolent  self- 
afifiurance,  and,  bad  as  her  language  had  been,  she  was  ever 
after  glad  that  she  had  not  uttered  that  last  maddening  word. 

To  be  accused  of  theft  had  been  almost  more  than  Browni# 
could  bear. 

A Douglas  aceused  of  stealing  I 


l8o  A TERRIBLE  ACCUSATION. 

But  the  other  insinuation ! She  had  hardly  been  able  to 
comprehend  it  at  first. 

She  grew  sick  at  heart,  dizzy  and  faint,  when  the  woman's 
meaning  at  length  burst  upon  and  nearly  crushed  her. 

For  one  moment  her  blood  seemed  turned  to  ice,  and  her 
brain  to  fire. 

The  next,  conscious  virtue  asserted  itself 

The  proud  figure  grew  more  proudly  erect,  the  little  head 
was  lifted  with  a haughty  grace,  and  Queen  Margaret  Tudor 
herself,  of  whom  Miss  Mehetabel  had  been  wont  to  boast, 
would  have  gloried  in  the  majesty  of  her  appearance. 

Then  the  pained,  almost  convulsed  expression  about  her 
delicate  mouth  relaxed  into  a withering  smile  of  scorn. 

What  were  these  two  base  spirits,  that  she,  a Douglas,  with 
royal  blood  in  her  veins,  should  fear  them  ? 

Yet  the  struggle  for  mastery  was  severe,  and  there  was  an 
awkward  silence  of  several  minutes  before  she  could  trust  her- 
self to  speak. 

She  turned  her  blazing  eyes  full  upon  her  accusers,  and  she 
found  they  could  not  bear  the  glance;  their  eyes  dropped 
guiltily  beneath  it. 

Then,  with  that  mighty  calmness  in  her  tones  and  manner, 
Brownie  said  to  Mrs.  Coolidge  : 

‘'Have  you  anything  further  to  say  tome  regarding  those 
jewels,  madam.?" 

“Not  unless  I can  persuade  you  to  confess  and  make  restk 
tution,"  she  answered,  uneasily. 

“I  have  no  confession  to  make;  I have  no  restitution  t® 
make.  Those  articles  of  jewelry  are  legally  mine — how.  I do 


A TERRIBLE  A CCUSA  TION. 


l8l 

not  intend  to  explain  to  you,  either  now  or  at  any  other  time. 
The  manner  in  which  you  or  your  daughter  became  possessed 
of  them  does  you  infinite  credit ; it  is  an  act  of  which  doubt- 
less you  will  be  proud  all  your  life.  Now,  if  you  please,  I 
will  relieve  you  of  them ; and  from  this  moment  consider  my 
engagement  with  you  at  an  end,  as,  after  such  repeated  insults, 
I could  no  longer  remain  in  your  family.'' 

She  reached  forth  her  hand  to  take  the  casket,  but  Mrs. 
Coolidge  clutched  it  with  the  grip  of  a miser. 

‘‘Oh,  no.  Miss  Douglas,  you  cannot  have  this  again;  you 
have  not  yet  proved  to  me  that  it  is  yours,  and  I cannot  allow 
such  a valuable  possession  to  go  out  of  my  hands  until  I am 
assured  who  the  rightful  owner  is." 

She  sneered,  white  with  anger,  that  the  girl  should  dare  brave 
her  so. 

“You  can  put  on  as  many  grand  airs  as  you  choose,  miss, 
but  you'll  find  that  we  know  how  to  take  them  for  just  what 
they  are  worth,"  said  Isabel,  scoifiingly. 

“Mrs.  Coolidge,  that  box  and  all  its  contents  are  mine^  and 
I demand  that  you  yield  it  up  to  me,"  Brownie  said,  sternly, 
fully  aroused. 

“Hear  the  minx,  mamma;  do  dismiss  her  instantly,"  cried 
Isabel,  angrily. 

“You  cannot  have  them,  Miss  Douglas,  until  you prcve  that 
they  are  yours,"  returned  Mi^.  Coolidge,  firmly,  and  she  closed 
the  box  with  a snap. 

“Then  I shall  be  obliged  to  take  legal  measures  to  obtain 
them,"  returned  the  young  girl,  with  decision. 

“Ha,  ha  I hear  her,  mamma.  She  speaks  like  a print^as^ 


i82 


A TERRIBLE  A CCUSA  TION, 


and  she  says  she  shall  consider  her  engagement  with  yon  at  an 
end,  as  if  that  were  a matter  she  only  can  decide, cried  Isabel, 
actually  quivering  with  rage. 

Brownie  noticed  her  by  neither  word  nor  look. 

Addressing  Mrs.  Coolidge  again  very  gently,  she  said : 

^^Once  more,  madam,  will  you  give  up  my  property.?’^ 

She  spoke  so  imperatively  that  for  a moment  the  woman  was 
staggered,  and  began  to  think  she  had  better  yield  the  point, 
for,  if  the  girl  should  call  in  oflScial  aid,  it  might  make  things 
very  arwkward  and  unpleasant. 

Isabel  saw  her  mother's  indecision,  and,  stooping,  she  whis- 
^red  in  her  ear  : 

‘ Don't  you  do  it,  mamma ; wait  until  papa  comes,  at  least. " 

^'You  prize  them  very  highly.?"  Mrs.  Coolidge  asked,  after  a 
moment's  thought, 
do." 

‘'They  are  not  suitable  for  you  to  wear  in  your  position ; you 
are  poor — could  you  be  persuaded  to  part  with  them  for  a con- 
sideration ?" 

A sudden  idea  had  come  to  her  that  if  she  could  persuade 
the  governess  to  sell  them,  they  would  hush  the  matter  up 
among  themselves. 

She  was  greedy  for  the  jewels,  and  was  determined  that  they 
should  not  go  out  of  her  hands  if  she  could  help  it. 

“What  do  you  mean  by  ‘a  consideration,'  madam?"  asked 
Miss  Douglas,  in  a peculiar  tone. 

“Why,  if  I should  pay  you  something  handsome  for  them, 
and  pledge  myself  to  say  nothing  mora  about  th#  matter,  would 
you  give  them  up?" 


A TERRIBLE  A CCUSA  TIORT. 


1B3 

‘'Really,  Mrs.  Coolidge,  you  are  very  discriminating  in  your 
ideas  of  honesty.  You  assert  that  I have  stolen  these  thingSc 
Would  you  be  willing  to  purchase  stolen  property  T' 

The  woman's  face  grew  crimson  with  rage  at  this  shaft.  i 

‘‘You  can  leave  the  room,  Miss  Douglas,  your  insolence  is 
insufferable,"  she  cried,  rising  and  pointing  with  her  shaking 
finger  to  the  door. 

“You  understand  me,  madam;  I shall  take  the  law,  unless 
jou  give  me  my  property,"  returned  the  young  girl,  calmly  con- 
fronting her,  and  taking  no  notice  of  her  command. 

'‘Take  the  law,  then ; you'll  have  a fight  of  it,  if  you  do,  let 
me  tell  you,  for  no  one  will  believe  the  tale  of  a governess,  who 
has  been  dismissed  for  unworthy  conduct.  Now,  go !"  cried 
the  irate  woman,  almost  beside  herself  with  passion. 

Brownie  uttered  no  words,  but  walked  like  a queen  from  the . 
room ; but  once  within  her  own,  she  broke  down  utterly. 

To  lose  those  treasures,  which  had  been  the  silent  compan- 
ions of  her  heart-broken  aunt  during  all  those  lonely  years,  and 
around  which  clustered  so  much  of  hope  and  despair,  was  more 
than  she  could  bear. 

The  little  chain,  too,  with  its  golden  key,  which  her  aunt 
had  told  her  to  wear  as  long  as  she  lived,  that,  too,  was  in  the 
power  of  those  cruel  women.  j 

She  grew  nearly  wild  over  the  thought  of  her  loss.  ! 

She  musf  have  them  again — she  zvjuld  have  them,  but 
get  them  was  the  question. 

She  realized  all  the  difficulties  which  lay  in  her  path. 

She  was  a stranger  in  this  foreign  land,  without  a friend  ou^ 
side  the  family  to  whom  to  turn  in  her  hour  of  need. 


184 


A TERRIBLE  A CCUSA  TION, 


If  she  should  take  the  law^  as  she  had  threatened,  no  on« 
would  believe  the  story,  as  Mrs.  Coolidge  had  said. 

Only  Isabel  and  her  mother  knew  anything  of  what  had  just 
transpired,  and  if  they  should  deny  her  statement,  how  could 
she  help  herself,  and  who,  indeed,  would  believe  that  a poor 
governess  owned  such  valuables.? 

The  more  she  thought  the  more  hopeless  her  case  seemed  to 
become. 

Once  her  thoughts  turned  involuntarily  to  Adrian  Dred- 
mond  ; perhaps  he  would  help  her. 

But  her  maidenly  delicacy  recoiled  from  seeking  aid  -^oin 
him,  a stranger,  and  besides 

Besides  what? 

She  could  not  tell  I 

And  what  was  her  future  to  be?  Where  should  she  go? 
What  should  she  do  ? 

Leave  her  present  situation  she  must  I 

She  could  not  forfeit  her  self-respect  by  remaining  where  she 
had  been  so  insulted  and  abused,  although  she  was  becoming 
very  much  attached  to  the  young  girls,  Viola  and  Alma. 

She,  of  course,  could  not  get  another  situation  as  governess 
without  a recommendation,  for,  without  doubt,  Mrs.  Coolidge 
would  refuse  to  give  her  one,  and  she  woul^  not  a^pt  iitf  sfu 
did. 

Take  her  recommendation  I Nevei  i 


DECLARATION  OF  LOVE. 


185 


CHAPTER  XVIL 

DECLARATION  OF  LOVE. 

While  Brownie  was  weeping  out  her  misery  alone,  and  trying 
io  plan  what  was  best  for  the  future,  Isabel  Coolidge  and  her 
mother  were  examining,  more  at  their  leisure,  the  beautiful  or- 
naments, which  had  so  excited  their  admiration  and  astonish- 
ment and  which  they  both  began  now  to  covet. 

Isabel  tried  the  effect  of  each,  separate  piece  upon  herself. 

To  do  the  two  women  justice,  they  really  believed  that  the 
jewels  had  been  stolen. 

Whether  Brownie  herself  had  been  guilty  of  the  theft,  or 
whether  some  one  else  had  taken  them,  and  then  presented 
them  to  her,  Mrs.  Coolidge  could  not  determine. 

At  all  events,  she  was  determined  that  they  should  not  go 
out  of  her  hands  until  their  ownership  was  fully  proved ; and, 
that  failing,  why  then  they  might  as  well  become  her  property 
$LS  any  one's.  Besides,  they  were  much  more  suitable  for  her 
than  for  a poor  governess,  who  could  have  no  possible  use  for 
them.  And  thus  she  tried  to  stifle  the  qualms  of  conscience. 

‘‘Mamma,  this  tiara  of  opals,  pearls,  and  diamonds  will  be 
just  the  thing  for  me  to  wear  next  Wednesday  night  at  Lady 
Peasewell's ; see  how  becoming  it  is. " And  Isabel  turned  from 
the  mirror,  where  she  had  been  catering  to  ker  vanity  for  the 
last  half  hour. 


i86 


DECLARATION  OF  LOVE. 


It  is  lovely,  my  dear ; but  I doubt  whether  your  father  will 
be  willing  you  should  wear  it.  His  ideas  are  peculiar,  you 
know. '' 

He  won't  be  here,  mamma.  You  know  he  said  he  should 
not  be  home  for  a week  or  ten  days ; so  he  need  not  know 
anything  about  it. " 

am  at  a loss  to  know  whether  it  is  best  to  tell  him  any- 
thing about  this  affair,"  said  Mrs.  Coolidge,  musingly. 

V'But  what  excuse  will  you  give  him  for  bouncing  Miss 
Douglas asked  Isabel,  who  had  a taste  for  using  slang  once 
in  a while. 

‘‘Her  insolence  to  me  ought  to  be  a sufficient  reason,  I 
think,"  her  mother  answered,  flushing  as  she  recalled  the  gov- 
erness' keen  shafts  and  haughty  manner. 

“No  one  knows  anything  of  the  matter  but  you  and  I ; why 
not  keep  still  about  it  ?"  urged  Isabel,  eagerly. 

“My  only  fear  is,  that  she  will  take  the  law,  as  she  threat- 
ened, and  then  your  father  would  have  to  know  about  it.  Be- 
sides, he  will  be  very  angry  at  the  way  we  gained  possession  of 
them,  and  then  there  will  be  no  end  of  trouble." 

She  very  well  knew  that  if  that  day’s  doings  became  known 
to  her  honorable  husband  he  would  insist  upon  her  returning 
the  casket  to  Miss  Douglas,  and  tell  her  that  she  was  meddling 
with  what  was  none  of  her  business. 

She  began  to  fear  that  she  had  been  rash  in  pursuing  the 
course  she  had,  and  she  heartily  wished  that  Isabel  had  kept  her 
meddlesome  fingers  at  hor«e.  And  yet,  every  time  her  eyes 
rested  upon  the  glittering  wealth  with  which  her  daughter  was 
toying,  the  desire  to  posses^  ^hem  became  stronger. 


DECLARATION  OF  LOVE. 


187 


Pshaw  !”  returned  Isabel,  she'll  never  dare  lake  the  law, 
and,  if  she  does,  who  will  believe  her,  providing  the  jewels  can^ 
noi  he  found,  and  we  are  very  much  astonished  and  indignant  at  be- 
ing accused  of  taking  them  from  her  T I 

The  two  women  gazed  at  each  other  in  silence  for  a moment. 

Isabel,  you  would  not  dare  do  such  a thing — it  would  be 
stealing  and  lying,"  said  her  mother,  in  a whisper. 

‘*Oh,  no,  mamma  ; you  are  too  conscientious  altogether," 
returned  the  girl,  shrugging  her  shoulders,  and  trying  on  Miss 
Mehetabel's  beautiful  engagement  ring  at  the  same  time.  ‘ ' We 
both  agree,"  she  went  on,  "Hhat  they  have  already  been  stolen, 
and  we  only  take  possession  of  them  for  a little  while,  until  we 
can  find  the  true  owner.  I'm  sure  I would  give  them  up  at 
once  if  we  could  find  the  person  whom  they  belong  to.  Of 
course,  if  we  should  acknowledge  that  we  have  them  in  our 
possession  we  should  have  to  give  them  up,  and,  whether  Miss 
Douglas  proved  her  property  or  not,  we  should  lose  them.  At 
any  rate,  let  us  hold  on  to  them,  and  wait  a while  to  see  what 
she  will  do. " 

‘Tam  afraid  it  will  not  do  for  you  to  wear  them,  Isabel ; 
you  may  meet  the  very  person  to  whom  they  belong,  here  in 
London. " 

“So  much  the  better,  then,  mamma;  we  shall  know  that  we 
did  right  in  taking  them  from  Miss  Douglas,  and  can  make  our 
explanations  and  restore  them.  It  strikes  me  that  my  sugges- 
tion is  a very  wise  one,  after  all,"  concluded  the  artful  girl,  who 
was  determined  to  keep  the  jewels. 

“You  may  be  right,  but  I don't  feel  exactly  easy  about  the 
matter ; above  all  things,  don't  let  Wilbur  know  anything  about 


m 


DECLARATION  OF  LOVE, 


it,"  returned  Mrs.  Coolidge,  fearing  more  and  more  that  there 
might  be  trouble  ahead  for  them. 

‘'No,  indeed,  mother,  and,  as  I began  this  business,  HI  take 
charge  of  these  jewels,  and  you  need  know  nothing  abtmt  them^  if 
your  conscience  is  troubling  you. " 

Isabel  replaced  the  jewels  in  the  casket,  shut  it,  and,  with  a 
laugh,  started  for  her  own  room. 

As  she  opened  the  door,  which  had  stood  ajar  ever  since 
Brownie  went  out,  she  encountered  Wilbur  face  to  face. 

She  would  father  have  faced  an  alligator  at  that  moment. 

"What  is  it  you  don’t  wish  Wilbur  to  know,  and  what  jewels 
are  you  talking  about  V'  he  smilingly  demanded,  as  he  barred 
her  passage. 

He  had  come  up  just  in  time  to  hear  their  last  remarks. 

"That  is  my  secret,"  she  replied,  trying  to  turn  the  matter 
off  playfully,  though  her  heart  was  beating  like  a trip-hammer. 

"Are  they  in  that  box?  let  me  see." 

* ^ 

Before  she  hardly  knew  what  he  was  about,  he  had  taken  it 
from  her  and  opened  it. 

"Where  did  you  get  these?"  he  asked,  in  great  surprise. 

"They  are  borrowed,"  Isabel  replied,  giving  her  mother  a 
significant  look. 

"Borrowed!  who  could  lend  such  a valuable  collection  as 
this?"  he  asked,  beginning  to  feel,  from  their  appearance,  that 
all  was  not  right 

"Ah  1"  he  added,  with  a start,  after  he  had  examined  them 
more  carefully,  " here  are  those  ornaments  which  Miss  Douglas 
wore  the  other  evening.  Do  th^  others'  belong  to  her,  too  ?" 

They  saw  that  it  would  be  useless  to  try  to  keep  their  secret 


DECLARATION  OF  LOVE. 


189 


ftom  him,  and  little  by  little  he  drew  it  all  from  their  reluctant 
lips.  A more  indignant  mortal  never  trod  the  earth  than  Wilbur 
Coolidge  when  he  got  at  the  truth  of  the  matter. 

He  demanded  that  the  jewels  be  returned  at  once  to  Miss 
Douglas,  and  a suitable  apology  made  for  their  insulting  treat- 
ment of  her.  ' 

An  angry  scene  ensued,  which  Mrs.  Coolidge  finally  put  an 
end  to  by  coming  forward,  taking  the  casket  from  her  son's 
hand,  and  locking  it  within  her  husband's  safe,  which  stood  in 
the  room. 

“Now,  Wilbur,  be  so  kind  as  to  hold  your  tongue,"  she 
said,  angrily,  “you  have  made  a fool  of  yourself  with  this  girl. 
I intend  to  keep  these  things  until  your  father  returns,  and  see 
if  he  believes  a poor  governess  came  by  these  things  lawfully." 

“You  women  are  regular  tyrants,  and  I reckon  when  father 
does  return  there  will  be  a different  state  of  things,"  he  replied, 
With  flashing  eyes. 

“Oblige  me  by  dropping  the  subject,  my  son ; you  are  in- 
terfering in  what  does  not  concern  you  in  the  least,"  returned 
Mrs.  Coolidge,  coldly. 

“I  shall  it  my  business,  madam,  mother  mine,  just  as 
aoon  as  the  law  will  allow,  if  the  poor  abused  darling  will  let 
me,"  he  muttered,  as  he  angrily  left  the  room. 

He  watched  for  Brownie  to  come  down  all  the  evening,  but 
she  remained  in  her  own  room,  too  utterly  miserable  to  desire 
to  meet  any  one. 

Viola  and  Alma  inquired  for  her  at  tea  time,  but  were  told 
that  she  was  indisposed,  and  would  not  come  down. 

Viola  afterward  stole  up  stairs  with  a cup  of  tea  and  a tempi* 


190 


DECLARATION  OF  LOVE. 


ing  plate  of  cold  chicken  and  toast,  but  Miss  Douglas'  door  was 
locked,  and  she  could  not  gain  admittance,  so  she  was  forced  to 
take  it  back  again  to  the  dining-room. 

The  next  morning  Mrs.  Coolidge  and  Isabel  started  off  on  2> 
shopping  expedition,  and  as  the  carriage  drove  from  the  door, 
Wilbur  rang  the  library  bell,  and  desired  the  servant  who  ap- 
peared to  ask  Miss  Douglas  to  grant  him  a few  moments'  con- 
versation. The  young  man  was  pale  and  excited,  and  after  the 
servant  disappeared,  he  walked  the  floor  nervously. 

Brownie  soon  came  down,  looking  haggard  and  wan,  hei 
usually  bright  eyes  heavy  and  lusterless,  and  great  dark  circles 
underneath  them. 

Wilbur  hastened  forward  to  meet  her  as  she  opened  the  door. 

‘‘My  dear  Miss  Douglas,"  he  said,  flushing  deeply,  “I  do 
not  know  what  to  say  to  you,  but  I am  more  indignant  than  I 
can  express  at  the  treatment  you  received  yesterday. " 

Brownie  smiled  wearily,  though  her  lips  quivered  at  his  kindly 
words.  It  was  so  comforting  to  be  treated  civilly. 

“Can  I do  anything  for  you.  Miss  Douglas?"  Wilbur  asked, 
•agerly,  his  heart  deeply  touched  by  her  sorrowful  appearance. 

“Thank  you  ; I do  not  suppose  it  is  in  your  power  to  do  the 
one  thing  I wish — give  me  back  my  jewels,  for  they  are  mine, 
Mr.  Coolidge,  notwithstanding  it  seems  improbable  for  a poor 
girl  to  own  such  valuables,"  she  replied,  her  color  rising. 

“I  do  not  doubt  it  in  the  least,"  he  answered,  impulsively. 
“I  know  that  you  are  truth  and  purity  itself,  and,  believe  me, 
you  shall  yet  have  your  own. " 

“ Ah  ! can  I?"  she  interrupted,  her  face  lighting  up  with 
wonted  beauty  for  a moment, 


DECLARATION'  OF  LOVE, 


191 

Oh,  how  he  loved  her  ! and  how  it  thrilled  him,  that  any 
words  of  his  should  have  the  power  to  make  her  beautiful  coun- 
tenapxce  brighten  like  that. 

'‘Yes,  you  have  them  again/’  he  said.  I cannot  re- 
kore  them  to  you  to-day,  but  just  as  soon  as  my  father  returns 
I shall  acquaint  him  with  what  has  happened,  and  he  will  see 
that  justice  is  done.” 

"Thank  you,”  Brownie  said,  appreciating  his  kindness,  yet 
fearing  that  his  mother  and  sister  would  outwit  him,  and  influn 
ence  his  father  against  her. 

"I  feel,  deeply  mortified,”  he  went  on,  dropping  his  eyes^ 
"that  any  one  who  is  akin  to  me  should  be  guilty  of  doing 
what  my  sister  did  yesterday ; and  the  treatment  which  you 
afterward  received — there  can  be  no  excuse  for  it.  ” 

"Do  not  speak  of  it  again,  Mr.  Coolidge  ; it  is  past  and 
cannot  be  recalled.  Your  kindness  and  sympathy  have  light- 
ened my  heart  already ; and  as  I go  away,  it  will  be  a comfort 
to  know  that  I have  your  esteem  and  friendship.” 

The  young  girl  was  deeply  touched  by  his  sympathy  and  dis- 
tress. 

"Go  away!  What  do  you  mean?”  he  asked,  looking  up 
startled. 

His  mother  had  not  told  him  that  she  was  going  away, 

"Surely  you  do  not  think  that  I would  remain  where  my 
truth  and  honesty  are  called  in  question  !”  she  replied,  with 
dignity. 

' ' Where  will  you  go  ?”  and  his  brow  contracted  with  pain. 

She  could  not  stay  ; it  were  folly  to  think  of  it,  he  knew. 

But  it  was  like  taking  the  sun  from  the  heavens  to  have  her  ga 


1^2 


DECLARATION  OF  LOVE', 


do  not  know/'  she  said,  with  a sigh,  and  her  tone,  Sd 
sadly  sweet,  moved  him  to  his  very  soul. 

She  had  been  with  them  less  than  three  months,  but  during 
that  time  she  had  grown  to  be  the  one  woman  in  the  world  to 
kirn. 

He  had  learned  to  watch  and  live  upon  her  every  motion  and 
expression,  to  listen  eagerly  for  her  footsteps  and  even  the  soft 
tustle  of  her  clothing.  The  lightest  sound  of  her  voice,  her 
Very  presence,  thrilled  him  as  nothing  else  had  ever  done  be- 
fore. He  had  lived  a new  life  since  her  coming.  He  knew  he 
was  a better  man  for  it. 

She  had  stirrrd  into  being  new  motives  and  purposes,  and  he 
was  beginning  to  think  of  forsaking  this  idle  way  of  living, 
and  of  trying  to  fit  himself  to  be  useful  in  the  world,  and 
worthy  of  her. 

And  now  she  was  being  driven  away  like  a criminal,  and  in- 
sulted by  his  own  kin. 

If  she  should  go  away  thus,  with  this  dreadful  cloud  hanging 
over  her,  what  would  become  of  her.?  Who  would  take  her  in  ? 

His  pulses  throbbed  wildly ; he  grew  desperate  with  the 
thought. 

‘‘  You  do  not  know .?  Will  you  let  me  tell  you  where  to  go  ?" 
he  breathed,  bending  eagerly  toward  her,  his  face  flushing  hotly, 
and  his  eyes  glowing  with  the  wild  love  which  moved  him. 

She  looked  up  a little  surprised  by  his  manner,  and  her  clear 
eyes  fell  before  his  passionate  gaze. 

“Darling,”  he  cried,  seizing  her  little  hands,  “you  do  not 
know  where  to  go } Come  to  me.  My  dear,  my  dear,  you  do 
not  know  how  I have  learned  to  love  you  since  you  came  like  a 


DECLAJ^ATION  OF  LOVE. 


193 


ray  of  light  into  this  household.  Come  to  me,  Meta — be  my 
wife,  and  no  stain  shall  touch  you  ; they  shall  not  dare  to 
breathe  aught  against  you  ; place  your  hand  in  mine,  and  I will 
plant  myself  between  you  and  all  harm.  My  love,  my  love,  I 
have  found  you.  I have  seen  many  fair  women,  but  now  I 
have  found  my  fate,  the  sweetest  fate  man  ever  found.  Say, 
dearest,  will  you  be  my  wife 

She  sat  before  him  white,  and  still,  and  dumb. 

The  color  which  but  a few  moments  before  had  begun  to 
creep  into  her  cheeks  at  his  words  of  sympathy,  now  fled  before 
this  avalanche  of  love  which  he  poured  upon  her. 

She  had  never  dreamed  that  he  loved  her  like  this,  although 
he  had  always  seemed  to  enjoy  her  society,  and  she  had  believed 
that  his  mother's  and  Isabel's  fears  had  only  been  caused  by 
their  own  jealous  hearts. 

She  had  no  chance  to  speak  ; he  had  poured  forth  his  words 
so  wildly,  and  she  did  not  even  remove  her  hands  from  his  for 
a moment,  her  surprise  holding  her  spell-bound.  _ 

She  knew  he  was  sincere,  and  that  his  whole  soul  had  yielded 
itself  up  to  her.  She  could  see  it  in  his  eager  look,  she  could 
feel  it  in  the  passionate  clasp  and  quiver  of  his  strong  hands. 

But  she  did  not  love  him. 

No  ; she  was  sure  of  it.  She  did  not  even  stop  to  debate  the 
question  within  her  own  mind ; she  was  not  even  moved  by  his 
wild  words,  except  to  feel  a sort  of  tender  sorrow  for  him  that 
Siie  must  destroy  all  his  hopes. 

But  even  as  she  sat  there,  trying  to  think  of  the  gentlest  way 
to  tell  him  this,  there  came  to  her  the  remembrance  of  another 
pair  of  eyes  into  which  she  had  once  looked,  and  felt  her  soul 


DECLARATION  OF  LOVE. 


294 

thrill  with  a peculiar  joy,  and  of  a strong  yet  gentle  clasp,  which 
had  seemed  for  a moment  to  inclose  her  within  the  gates  of 
Paradise. 

No,  she  did  not  love  Wilbur  Coolidge,  and  if  she  did  she 
aould  not  be  his  wife,  and  subject  herself  to  the  scorn  and  con- 
tempt which  she  would  receive  from  his  family. 

Something  of  this  he  must  have  read  in  her  face,  for  he  said, 
tenderly  : 

‘‘  Brownie,  you  do  not  answer  me.  Will  you  not  crown  my 
life  with  the  blessing  of  your  love They  shall  never  harm  you. 
We  will  go  away  where  they  cannot  trouble  you  by  so  much  as 
a word.  Will  you  not  speak  and  give  me  hope  V 

She  drew  back  from  him,  pained  and  sorrowful. 

“Mr.  Coolidge,  if  I speak  at  all,  it  must  be  to  crush  all  hope 
of  any  such  thing  as  you  desire,''  she  said,  sadly,  with  down- 
cast eyes  and  crimson  cheeks. 

“Meta!  Miss  Douglas  1 noT  he  cried,  hoarsely,  his  hand- 
some face  clouding  with  pain. 

“Yes,  Mr.  Coolidge;  hard  as  it  is  for  me  to  wound  you  thus, 
when  you  offer  me  the  greatest  homage  a woman  can  ever  re- 
ceive— the  love  of  an  honest  heart — ^yet  I cannot  bid  you  hope, 
&r  I do  not  love  you  in  return. " 

“You  have  not  had  time  to  think  of  it.  I have  startled  you 
with  my  abruptness ; you  do  not  know  your  own  heart  yet,"  he 
said,  his  lips  growing  white  and  quivering. 

“I  have  not,  indeed,  had  time  to  think,  for  I didn@tat  once 
imagine  that  you  cherished  any  such  feelings  toward  me.  But 
my  heart  does  not  respond  t#  yours.  No,  Mr.  Coolidge,  I can' 
not  be  your  wife.” 


DECLARATION  OF  LOVE. 


ns 

*^Are  you  sure — are  you  very  sure  you  can  never  love  me, 
Meta  V he  pleaded,  while  great  drops  came  out  upon  his  fore- 
head. 

‘'Quite  sure,''  she  said,  firmly,  though  kindly. 

“Brownie,  Brownie,  when  I love  you  so ; when  I have  list- 
ened eagerly  for  the  sound  of  your  footfall ; when  even  the 
tone  of  your  voice  has  been  music  to  me  from  the  first ; when 
every  fiber  of  my  being  has  twined  itself  about  you  I Oh  ! it 
i«  too  cruel ; I cannot  have  it  so^ — only  give  me  one  little  ray  of 
hope,  and  I will  wait  years  if  need  be. " 

His  voice  sounded  like  the  cry  of  the  lost,  and  he  caught  his 
breath  with  a hard  dry  sob,  that  made  the  young  girl's  heart 
ache  with  pity  for  him. 

She  arose  from  the  chair  where  she  had  been  sitting,  and  the 
great  tears  rolled  swiftly  over  her  flushed  cheeks. 

“Mr.  Coolidge,  be  assured  if  I could  truthfully  speak  the 
words  you  wish,  I would  do  so ; but  it  cannot  be,  and  as  it  will 
only  give  us  both  pain  to  meet  again,  let  me  say  good-by  to  vou 
here,  for  I go  this  evening.  Please  accept  my  thanks  for  voi^r 
kindness  to  me,  and  let  me  still  be  your  friend." 

She  held  out  her  hand  to  him  and  he  took  it,  his  whole  frame 
shaking  with  the  great  bitterness  which  well  nigh  crushed  him. 

He  lifted  it  to  his  lips,  then  broke  down  entirely,  and  with 
©ne  quick  movement,  gathered  her  close  in  his  arms,  and 
pressed  his  lips  to  her  white  brow. 

“My  darling,  my  darling,’'  he  groaned,  “forgive  me,  but 
you  can  never  knov/  tne  wretchedness  of  this  moment  to  me." 

At  that  moment  the  library  door  spung  open,  and  Mrs.  Cool- 
1 idsre  and  Isabel  stood  upon  the  threshold. 

t 


>96 


I 


CHAPTER  XVIIL 

JEALOUSY. 

Mrs.  Coolidge  and  her  daughter  had  only  been  some  ten 
minutes  on  their  way,  when  the  latter  discovered  that  she  had  , 
forgotten  her  pocket-book  and  memorandum,  consequently  they  . 
had  to  return  for  them. 

Isabel  had  entered  the  house,  intending  to  run  up  stairs  and 
back  again,  but  hearing  low  voices  in  the  library,  she  stopped' 
to  listen  a moment,  wondering  who  was  within  ; then,  with 
flashing  eyes  and  scarlet  cheeks,  she  stepped  to  the  door  and 
beckoned  to  her  mother  to  come  in. 

Mrs.  Coolidge  quickly  obeyed  the  summons,  and  as  soon  as 
she  learned  who  were  the  inmates  of  the  library,  she  threw  open 
the  door,  and  just  in  season  to  behold  the  scene  described  in  ! 
the  last  chapter. 

With  a feeling  of  utter  dismay.  Brownie  disengaged  herself  y 
from  Wilbur  Coolidge's  embrace,  and  started  to  leave  the  room.  •. 

But  the  two  women  barred  the  way,  and  would  not  let  her  ’ 
pass  ; while  Mrs.  Coolidge  demanded,  in  stern  tones  : 

‘‘Pray,  what  is  the  meaning  of  this  affecting  scene 

Wilbur  colored  deeply,  but  braced  himself  for  battle. 

“Mother — Isabel — let  Miss  Douglas  pass  1'"  he  commanded, 
m a voice  as  stern  as  Mrs,  Coolidge's  owa. 


JEALeUSY, 


197 


They  dare  not  disobey  him  in  that  mood,  and  moving  aside, 
Brownie  passed  out,  and  sped  swiftly  to  her  own  room. 

‘‘Now  I will  answer  your  questions,  if  you  have  any  to  ask,^*^ 
the  young  man  said,  folding  his  arms,  and  regarding  them  with 
a gloomy  brow. 

“ I should  like  to  know  how  that  designing  hussy  succeeded 
in  entrapping  you  into  making  such  a fool  of  yourself  ?”  said 
Isabel,  furiously. 

“Really,  Isabel,  you  are  acquiring  an  elegance  of  speech  at 
which  I am  surprised  T'  retorted  her  brother,  sarcastically. 

“Wilbur,  hush!  Isabel,  keep  quiet!''  said  Mrs.  Coolidge, 
authoritatively.  Then,  turning  to  her  son,  she  continued  : 

“ I am  astonished,  my  son,  at  what  I have  just  witnessed. 
That  girl  will  ruin  the  peace  of  this  family  yet. " 


i' 


‘ ‘ She  has  ruined  it  already,  as  far  as  I am  concerned,  he 
replied,  moodily ; then  added  : 

“But,  mother,  Miss  Douglas  is  in  no  way  accountable  for 
what  you  saw.  I alone  am  to  blame.  I had  just  asked  her  to 
be  my  wife " 

“ Whatr  exclaimed  both  women,  aghast. 

“Yes ; I began  to  love  that  beautiful  girl  the  first  moment  I 
«w  her.  Further  intercourse  has  only  served  to  deepen  and 
strengthen  that  sentiment,  and  to-day  I resolved  to  ask  her  to 
be  my  wife,  that  I might  shield  and  protect  her  from  further 
insult  and  abuse  on  your  part. " 

“Indeed  !"  said  his  mother,  growing  white  with  anger. 

“When  is  the  wedding  to  take  place  between  you  and  this 
lovely  beggar  ?"  sneered  Isabel 


198 


JEALOUSY. 


'‘I  warn  you  not  to  try  me  too  far,  either  of  you  1’*  Wilbur 
replied,  with  a dangerous  gleam  in  his  eye  ; then  added  : 

You  did  not  permit  me  to  finish  my  statement  However, 

I have  only  to  tell  you  that  Miss  Douglas  has  refused  me." 

His  mother  heaved  a sigh  of  intense  relief,  and  murmured  : 

“ What  an  escape  !" 

While  Isabel  retorted  : 

''  Showed  her  good  sense  ioi  once  ! She  probably  knew  she 
would  not  be  received  into  a respectable  family  after  what  oc^ 
curred  yesterday.  You  always  were  a fool  when  there  was  \ 
pretty  face  around. " 

''Thank  you!  But  be  it  known  to  you  both,  that  if  she 
had  so  chosen,  I should  have  made  Miss  Douglas  Mrs.  Wilbur 
Coolidge  just  as  soon  as  the  law  would  have  allowed,"  was  the  , 
stern  reply. 

"Now,  if  you  please,"  he  added,  addressing  his  mother,  "1 
would  like  you  to  write  a recommendation  for  Miss  Douglas." 

"A  recommendation  for  what — truth  and  honesty?"  she  , 
sneeied.  : 

"For  her  thorough  education  and  superior  accomplishments, 
and  her  efficiency  and  success  as  a governess,"  he  retorted,  ! 
firmly. 

" I shall  do  no  such  thing  I"  was  the  indignant  reply, 

"Then,  mother,  mark  my  words,  if  Miss  Douglas  goes  away 
from  here  without  a recommendation  fr#m  you,  as  a good  gov- 
erness, a refined  and  cultivated  lady,  I leave  this  house  also  to- 
day, and  utterly  refuse  to  accompany  you  farther  on  your  tour. 

Is  it  not  enough,"  he  continued,  excitedly,  "that  you  abuse  and 
ixxsult  her,  prowling  about  among  her  possessions,  and  appropri^ 


JEALOUSY, 


199 


ating  them,  without  driving  her  forth  from  your  home  with  no 
means  of  providing  for  herself  in  the  future  T* 

‘'Of  course  those  jewels  do  not  belong  to  her,  Wilbur — why 
will  you  persist  in  such  nonsense  ? I honestly  believe  the  girl 
is  a thief!''  said  Mrs.  Coolidge,  impatiently. 

“But  just  suppose  the  future  proves  they  are  her  property, 
who,  then,  will  be  the  thief.^^"  he  demanded,  hotly. 

“Why,  if  she  can  prove  it  to  me  satisfactorily,  then  I shall  have 
tc^'yield  them  up  to  her,  of  course,"  replied  Mrs.  Coolidge^ 
flushing,  and  not  relishing  this  side  of  the  question. 

“ Will  you  give  her  the  recommend 

“ I suppose  I shall  have  to,  in  order  to  keep  you  with  us." 

She  dreaded  nothing  so  much  as  his  roaming  off  by  himself. 

“Then  make  it  out  at  once — and  a good  one  let  it  be,  too ; 
for  Miss  Douglas  leaves  to-day. " 

“ Does  she,  indeed } I have  not  dismissed  her  yet,  I believe,** 
sneered  the  irate  woman.  But  she  sat  down  to  the  table  and 
began  to  write. 

“That  will  not  be  necessary,  since  she  has  already  decided 
to  go." 

“Thank  you,"  he  said,  as  she  handed  him  what  she  had 
written,  and  he  ran  his  quick  eye  over  it.  “ That  will  do  nicely. 
Now,  if  you  will  give  me  what  you  owe  her,  I will  hand  both  to 
her  at  the  same  time." 

She  saw  that  her  son  was  in  no  mood  to  be  trifled  with,  and 
did  as  he  requested,  although  inwardly  resolving  to  be  equal 
with  the  despised  governess,  if  ever  the  opportunity  should 
offer. 

Wilbur  took  both  paper  and  money,  and  left  the  room.  He 


aoo 


JEALOUSY. 


''rent  directly  to  Brownie’s  door,  and  tapped.  She  opened  it, 
and  he  saw  that  she  had  been  weeping.  The  sight  filled  him 
with  self-reproach. 

‘ ‘ Forgive  me,  ” he  said,  regretfully,  ‘ ‘ for  having  added  to  your 
unhappiness  by  my  selfishness.  I would  have  given  my  right 
arm  rather  than  that  this  should  have  happened.  But,”  he 
added,  after  a moment’s  pause,  “I  did  not  come  here  to  say 
this ; I came  to  bring  you  these,  that  you  might  be  saved  any 
further  unpleasantness,”  and  he  handed  her  the  money  alid- 
paper. 

“Thank  you,”  she  said,  touched  by  his  kindness. 

She  opened  the  paper,  and  read  Mrs.  Coolidge’s  recommend- , 
ation.  It  was  all  that  she  could  ask,  or  even  desire.  She 
counted  the  money,  and  found  that  there  were  five  pounds  more 
than  were  actually  due  her.  A painful  flush  overspread  her 
lovely  face,  as  she  separated  them  from  the  rest  of  the  money  ; 
then,  folding  it  within  the  recommendation,  she  passed  it  back 
to  Wilbur,  saying,  briefly,  but  proudly  : ; 

‘ ‘ I cannot  make  use  of  these.  ” ; 

“I  understand  you,”  he  said,  humbly,  “and  I cannot  blame 
you  ; but  I thought  in  this  strange  city  you  would  need  some-' 
thing  of  the  kind.” 

“ I do  need  it— indeed,  I do  not  know  how  I am  to  get  along 
without  something  of  the  kind  ; but,  after  what  has  occurred,  I 
could  not  use  /Aai,”  Brownie  Said,  with  a weary  sigh. 

He  bowed,  but  did  not  press  her  to  take  it ; then,  after  a mo- 
ment’s thought,  he  asked  : 

“Miss  Douglas,  would  you  make  use  of  one  signed  by  ray 
father 


yEALOVsV. 


201 


‘^Yes,  and  be  very  thankful  for  it/'  she  replied,  her  eye 
brightening. 

‘‘You  shall  have  it ; I will  make  it  my  first  business  to  ob- 
tain a good  recommendation  for  you  as  soon  as  he  returns,  and 
send  it  to  you.” 

“Thank  you  ; you  are  very  kind,”  and  a tear  sprang  to  her 
eye  at  his  thoughtfulness. 

“When  do  you  go  ?”  he  asked,  as  he  was  about  turning  away. 

“As  soon  as  I can  pack  my  trunks  and  send  for  a cab.” 

“Can  I help  you  in  any  way.?” 

“If  you  will  order  the  cab  for  me,  it  will  save  me  a little 
trouble,”  she  answered,  smiling  wearily. 

^'Anything  that  I can  do  will  be  a pleasure,”  he  replied, 
though  an  expression  of  anguish  swept  over  his  handsome  face 
as  he  bowed  and  left  her. 

In  two  hours  she  was  ready,  her  trunks  strapped  and  in  the 
lower  hall,  waiting  for  the  cab. 

With  a nearly  breaking  heart.  Brownie  sought  Viola  and  Alma 
to  bid  them  farewell. 

They  were  deeply  distressed  at  the  thought  of  parting  with 
her,  and  protested  loudly  against  it.  She  had  won  their  hearts 
completely  during  her  short  stay  with  them,  and  felt  that  with 
right  and  careful  training  they  would  make  noble  women  ; but 
her  work  there  .was  over,  and  she  could  only  breathe  a prayer 
that  her  successor  might  be  conscientious  and  wise  in  her  deal- 
ings with  them. 

Mrs.  Coolidge  and  Isabel  ignored  her  departure  entirely,  and 
did  not  show  themselves,  much  to  Brownie  s relief. 


yEAtOUSY, 


As  Wilbur,  with  clouded  brow,  and  white,  compressed  lipfii, 
assisted  her  into  the  cab,  he  asked  : 

‘‘Where  to.  Miss  Douglas?'' 

“To  the  ‘Washington'  for  the  present.  It  is  a good  hotel, 
and  has  a familiar  sound  which  seems  quite  home-like,"  she 
answered,  trying  to  smile,  but  he  saw  that  her  lips  quivered. 

She  felt  inexpressibly  desolate  and  forlorn. 

“Then  if  I address  a note  to  you  there  within  a few  days  or 
a week,  you  will  get  it,"'  he  said. 

“Yes." 

“May  I call ?" 

“No,  Mr.  Coolidge,  I prefer  you  should  not;  it  would  be 
wiser  not  to  do  so  at  present,"  Brownie  answered,  gently,  but 
firmly. 

She  knew  if  she  gave  him  permission,  it  might  lead  him  to 
hope,  and,  besides,  it  might  cause  her  further  trouble  if  his 
mother  and  sister  should  discover  that  he  was  visiting  her. 

He  colored,  wrung  her  hand,  and  shut  the  door  : then  giving 
her  direction  to  the  driver,  she  was  whirled  away.  \ 

Wilbur  returned  to  the  house  very  sore  at  heart.  Life  seemed ! 
io  him  very  dark  just  then  ; its  brightness  had  all  vanished  with 
Brownie. 

He  went  back  to  the  library.  No  one  was  there. 

He  passed  on  up  stairs  to  his  mother's  rooms,  and  found  both 
her  and  Isabel  within. 

They  had  been  watching  his  leave-taking  of  the  despised 
governess,  and  now  turned  upon  him,  with  faces  of  scorn. 

“Now  that  your  inamorata  has  departed,  I hope  you  will  ■ 
show  some  common  sense,  Wilbur,"  his  mother  said,  sharply. 

% 


JEALOUSY, 


203 


He  took  no  notice  of  the  remark,  but  handed  her  the  recom- 
^mendation,  with  the  money  inclosed,  in  silence. 

'‘What  does  this  mean?  Ah!  she  would  take  only  what 
was  due  her,  and  you  did  not  give  her  the  recommendation,  after 
all/'  she  said,  in  tones  of  satisfaction,  as  her  quick  eye  ran 
over  it. 

" I did  not  give  it  to  her?’'  cried  her  son,  angrily.  "Of 
course  I gave  it  to  her ; but  the  poor  insulted  girl  refused  to 
take  it ; she  refused  to  obtain  another  situation  upon  your 
recommendation. '' 

"The  upstart  I I'd  like  to  box  her  ears  soundly  for  putting 
on  such  airs  I"  exclaimed  Isabel,  spitefully. 

"Upstart  indeed  1 I'll  warrant  that  there  is  better  blood  now 
in  her  veins  than  ever  flowed  in  ours.  She  has  been  born  and 
bred  a lady,  which  is  more  than  I can  say  of  you.  There  is 
some  mystery  about  her,  I admit;  but,  mark  my  words,  the  time 
will  come  when  both  of  you  will  be  glad  to  cultivate  her  ac- 
quaintance, and  when  you  will  rue  the  day  that  you,  led  on  by 
your  curiosity  and  covetousness,  ever  meddled  with  her  treas- 
ures, and  drove  her  from  your  house  by  your  abuse." 

Wilbur  Coolidge  spoke  indignantly  and  at  random,  but  in 
after  months  he  remembered  his  words,  and  wondered  at  the 
truth  of  his  prophecy. 

Before  he  had  concluded  there  came  a rap  upon  the  door. 

Isabel  opened  it. 

A servant  stood  without  bearing  a silver  salver,  upon  which 
lay  a card. 

‘‘A  gentleman  to  see  Miss  Douglas,"  he  said,  bowing 
spectfully. 


204 


JEALOUSY. 


‘‘A  gentleman  to  see  Miss  Douglas  !”  repeated  Mrs.  Coolidge,  | 
contemptuously,  while  Isabel  pounced  upon  the  card  and  read 
the  name,  Adrian  Dredmond/' 

The  color  flushed  over  her  fair  face  in  a scarlet  flood. 

'‘There  is  some  mistake  here,''  she  said,  sharply,  to  hei 
servant. 

Then  turning  to  her  mother,  she  added  : 

"Mamma,  it  is  Lord  Dredmond." 

She  had  persisted  in  giving  him  this  title  ever  since  she  had 
learned  that  he  was  the  grandson  of  an  earl,  although  Wilbur  | 
had  repeatedly  told  her  that  he  did  not  care  to  have  it  used  until 
he  came  into  his  property.  He  was  very  m©dest  about  it. 

"Of  course,  there  is  a mistake,"  returned  Mrs.  Coolidge. 
"You  had  better  pay  more  attention.  The  gentleman  doubt- 
less wishes  to  see  Miss  Isabel,"  she  said,  severely,  to  the  servant. 

"The  gentleman  inquired  for  Miss  Douglas,"  he  persisted. 

"Well,  did  you  tell  him  that  she  had  gone .?" 

" Gone  ! I did  not  know  that  Miss  Douglas  was  out,"  the 
man  replied,  in  surprise. 

He  had  been  engaged  in  another  part  of  the  house  when 
Brownie  departed. 

" Isabel,  you  must  go  down  and  receive  him  yourself.  Find 
out,  if  you  can,  what  he  wants  of  her,  and  make  yourself  as 
agreeable  as  possible  to  him,"  Mrs.  Coolidge  remarked,  running 
her  eye  critically  over  her  daughter,  to  see  that  everything  was 
all  right. 

" It  is  time  that  minx  was  out  of  the  way  ; she  seems  to  havj 
a strange  faculty  for  bewitching  the  gentlemen,  without  appear* 
ing  to  do  so,"  muttered  Isabel,  as  she  swept  from  the  rooi^| 


JEALOUSY. 


to^ 


smoothing  out  her  distorted  face,  and  followed  by  her  brothe^f's 
contemptuous  glances. 

Wilbur  himself  soon  after  arose  and  left. 

A jealous  feeling  was  beginning  to  creep  into  his  own  heart, 
and  he  wondered  what  Adrian  Dredmond  could  want  of  Brownie 
Douglas. 


ao6 


AN  UNSUCCESSFUL  SEARCH, 


CHAPTER  XDC 

AN  UNSUCCESSFUL  SEARCH. 

Wb^n  Isabel  entered  the  drawing-room,  Mr.  Dredmond  arose 
io  salute  her ; but  an  expression  of  disappointment  swept  over 
his  fine  face,  when  he  saw  Miss  Coolidge  instead  of  Miss 
Douglas. 

Isabel  approached  him,  holding  out  her  white  hand,  and  say- 
ing, cordially: 

‘‘This  is  a pleasure,  truly,  my  lord."' 

He  flushed  at  the  title. 

“ You  mistake.  Miss  Coolidge,"'  he  said,  smiling,  as  he  shook 
hands  with  her,  “lam  not  my  lord,  or,  at  least,  I should  say, 
that  I prefer  not  to  answer  to  that  title  at  present.  While  my 
grandfather  lives  I prefer  to  be  only  plain  Mr.  Dredmond."^ 

“The  title  suits  you,  nevertheless,"  she  answered,  sweepiag 
him  an  admiring  glance,  and  then  drooping  her  lashes  shyly. 

“I  hope  to  be  wwthy  of  it  when  it  becomes  mine,"  he  re- 
plied, gravely,  and  wondering  why  she  did  not  explain  Mis? 
Douglas"  absence. 

But  it  was  no  part  of  her  plan  to  do  so. 

She  intended  to  appropriate  the  call  to  herself,  and  make  the 
most  of  her  opportunity. 

Ever  since  she  had  learned  that  he  was  heir  to  an  earldoni 


AN  UNSUCCESSFUL  SEARCH. 


ioj 

she  had  resolved  to  exert  all  her  powers  to  win  him,  and  become 
'‘my  lady,''  and  now  she  set  herself  to  work  to  charm  him. 

She  began  chatting  in  a lively  manner,  and  possessing  much 
native  tact,  and  a very  pleasing  address,  she  beguiled  him  out 
of  half  an  hour  before  he  was  aware  of  it. 

"I  beg  your  pardon, " he  said,  starting,  when  he  heard  the 
hall  clock  strike,  "but  I wished  to  see  Miss  Douglas.  I have 
a little  piece  of  property  belonging  to  her,  which  I desire  to  re- 
turn. " 

Isabel  longed  to  ask  what  it  was,  but  dare  not 

"Miss  Douglas !"  she  said,  with  elevated  eyebrows,  and  well- 
assumed  surprise. 

"Yes;  I inquired  for  her  when  I gave  my  card  to  the  ser- 
vant " 

"I  am  sorry  there  should  have  been  any  mistake,  Mr.  Dred- 
mond,"  replied  Isabel,  smiling  sweetly,  but  inwardly  raging, 
"but  the  servant  must  have  misunderstood,  for  he  brought  yonr 
card  to  me  ; besides.  Miss  Douglas  is  not  with  us  now,  she  has 
left" 

"Left!  Indeed  I thought  she  came  abroad  with  you,  and 
intended  to  return  with  you,"  he  said,  in  great  surprise,  and 
beginning  to  think  that  all  was  not  right 

" I know  nothing  as  to  her  intentions,  Mr.  Dredmond,  but 
we  have  been  pained  to  discover  that  Miss  Douglas  is  not  trust- 
worthy, and  mamma  was  therefore  obliged  to  dispense  with  her 
services. " 

The  lie  stung  her  tongue,  but  she  remembered  his  evident 
admiration  of  Brownie  the  night  of  the  opera,  and  she  resolved 

disenchant  him  if  possible. 


AN  UNSUCCESSFUL  SEARCH. 


20% 

''Not  trustworthy  Y'  he  exclaimed,  aghast. 

He  would  have  staked  his  own  honor  against  hers. 

"It  is  very  painful,  is  it  not,  Mr.  Dredmond,  when  she  ap. 
peared  feo  innocent  and  was  so  beautiful?"'  asked  Isabel,  with  a 
sad  smile. 

He  did  not  reply,  and  she  went  on  : 

"But  we  found  that  she  had  been  taking  that  which  did  not 
belong  to  her,  and,  of  course,  mamma  could  not  longer  trust 
the  girls  under  her  influence." 

The  artful  girl's  tone  and  manner  expressed  the  deepest  re- 
gret, but  he  was  not  deceived  by  it,  although  her  statement  of 
Brownie’s  dishonesty  confounded  him. 

"Impossible!"  he  ejaculated,  with  a pained,  startled  look, 
and  his  mind  went  back  to  that  moment  when  her  pure  face 
lay  for  one  moment  upon  his  bosom,  and  when  she  had  lifted 
her  clear  eyes,  which  were  like  shining  pools  of  purest  water, 
so  trustingly  to  his,  and  now  he  was  told  that  she  was  a thief! 

He  knew  better. 

If  ever  truth  and  purity  of  purpose  were  written  upon  any 
face,  they  were  written  upon  hers. 

"It  does  not  seem  possible,  I admit,"  Isabel  hastened  to  say, 
’oaring  she  had  been  unwise,  and  not  liking  the  way  he  had  re- 
ceived her  information.  "Mamma  and  I were  infinitely 
shocked  when  we  discovered  it,  but  the  proof  was  too  incon- 
lestable,  even  without  her  evident  guilt,  for  us  to  doubt." 

'"Was  she — did  she  confess  her — fault?"  he  stammered. 

" Oh,  no  ! such  persons  never  do  that,  you  knov/  ; they  al- 
wap  put  on  any  amount  of  airs,  and  make  a great  show  of  in- 
nocence. But  then  we  had  the  proof  right  in  our  own  hands." 


AN'  UNSUCCESSFUL  SEARCH. 


t09 

Would  jou  mind  telling  me  what  she  has  done — what 
proof  you  have  of  her  guilt  ? Perhaps  there  may  be  some  mis- 
understanding to  which  I could  suggest  an  explanation,”  he 
said,  inwardly  writhing  with  pain  at  her  words. 

( ^'Excuse  me  ; but  that  would  not  be  right,  and  I fear  that  I 
have  been  very  unwise  to  speak  of  it  at  all.  The  girl  is  gone, 
and  I have  no  wish  to  injure  her  ; I only  hope  she  may  repent 
of  her  folly,  and  try  to  do  better  in  the  future.  Please  forget 
what  I have  said,  Mr.  Dredmond,  and  do  not  remember  it 
against  her  if  you  should  ever  meet  her  again.  I assure  you  it 
is  a very  painful  topic  to  me.  ” 

She  wiped  an  imaginary  tear  from  her  eye,  and  immediately 
changed  the  subject  of  conversation  by  asking  if  he  intended 
being  present  at  Lady  PeasewelFs  drawing-room  the  following 
Wednesday  evening. 

‘‘I  presume  so — I don’t  know — I believe  we  have  cards,” 
Adrian  stammered,  his  mind  fully  occupied  with  thoughts  of 
that  delicate,  lovely  girl,  who  had  been  driven  forth  into  a 
strange  wilderness  of  which  she  knew  absolutely  nothing. 

He  began  to  be  conscious  of  a great  pain  in  his  heart,  on  ac- 
count of  her  misfortune,  and  he  did  not  need  to  be  told  of  the 
abuse  which  she  had  suffered.  The  memory  of  that  conversa- 
tion which  he  had  overheard  between  Miss  Coolidge  and  her 
mother,  on  board  the  steamer,  was  too  fresh  in  his  mind. 

He  did  not  for  a moment  believe  her  to  be  guilty  of  wliai 
Isabel  accused  her. 

He  did  not  doubt  that  there  was  some  serious  misunderstand- 


310 


AN  UNSUCCESSFUL  SEARCH. 


was  unwilling  to  tell  him,  and  he  was  too  much  of  a gentlemaai 
to  press  the  matter  further. 

After  a few  moments  more  spent  in  general  conversation,  ho 
arose  to  go. 

Can  you  give  me  Miss  Douglas'  present  address  V he  asked. 

‘ ' I would  really  like  to  return  what  belongs  to  her. " 

She  would  not  have  told  him  for  a kingdom,  had  she  known, 
but  she  replied,  with  every  appearance  of  kindness  : 

''  How  sorry  I am,  but  really  ! do  not  know.  Indeed,  I was 
so  shocked  and  disappointed  to  discover  one  so  young  and 
lovely  so  old  in  guilt,  that  it  did  not  occur  to  me  to  ask  where 
she  v/as  going. " 

It  nettled  him  exceedingly  to  have  her  talk  thus ; and  could 
she  have  read  his  heart,  she  would  have  seen  at  once  that  there 
was  little  chance  of  her  becoming  ‘"my  lady." 

‘"Should  you  discover  where  she  is,  will  you  kindly  inform 
me  V he  asked. 

‘"Oh,  certainly,  with  great  pleasure,"  smiled  the  fascinating 
hypocrite. 

""I  still  think  you  will  find  there  has  been  some  mistake, 
Miss  Coolidge,"  he  added,  gravely.  “I  knew  something  of 
Miss  Douglas  before  meeting  her  in  this  country,  and  the  state- 
ment you  have  made  regarding  her  seems  utterly  impossible." 

‘"You!"  exclaimed  Isabel,  her  heart  bounding  wildly. 
“Did  you  know  Miss  Douglas  in  America 

Perhaps,  after  all,  here  was  the  solution  of  the  mystery  of 
those  beautiful  gems,  and  that  card  with  the  names  of  counts 
and  lords  upon  it.  Had  he  had  anything  to  do  with  it  ? 

Her  brain  reeled  at  the  <»hought. 


AN  UNSUCCESSFUL  SEARCH. 


211 


Was  she  then  the  thief  after  all  ? 

She  hung  breathless  on  his  reply. 

knew  of  her,  although  I never  made  her  acquaintance, 
until  your  brother  introduced  me  at  the  opera  the  other  even- 
ing/^ 

She  breathed  more  freely  now  ; he  had  not  given  Brownie  the 
gems,  that  was  evident.  He  knew  nothing  of  the  card. 

‘ ‘ I have  friends  who  know  her  intimately,  he  went  on, 
watching  her  keenly,  to  mark  the  effect  of  his  words.  ‘^She 
was  a Philadelphian,  and  belonged  to  a very  wealthy  and  hon- 
orable family.  About  a month  ago — perhaps  a little  more — - 
death  and  misfortune  suddenly  deprived  her  of  everything.  She 
is  very  highly  educated,  as  undoubtedly  you  have  discovered, 
and  before  the  trouble  came  upon  her,  she  moved  in  the  very 
best  circles.  I speak  of  this  merely  to  show  you  why  I believe 
it  impossible  for  Miss  Douglas  to  be  guilty  of  what  you  accuse 
her.  I trust  also  to  hear  ere  long  that  you  have  been  mis- 
taken. '' 

And  with  this  thorn  planted  in  Miss  Isabel's  conscience, 
Adrian  Dredmond  bowed  himself  from  her  presence,  leaving 
her  astounded,  confused,  and  with  a heavy  weight  of  guilt  upon 
her  heart. 

What  had  she  done  ? 

Accused  an  innocent  girl  of  theft,  and  stolen  a fortune  from 
her ; then  driven  her  forth  in  disgrace  into  an  uncharitable 
world  to  beg  her  bread  or  starve ; for  likely  as  not  it  would 
come  to  that  since  she  had  no  recommendation  wherewith  to 
gain  another  place. 

She  sat  for  an  hour  in  anything  but  agreeable  meditation. 


212 


AN  UNSUCCESSFUL  SEARCH. 


She  was  frightened  at  what  she  had  done,  and  the  possible 
consequences,  but  she  was  not  sorry. 

Oh,  no ; she  could  have  set  her  foot  ruthlessly  upon  Brownie 
Douglas'  heart,  and  crushed  the  life  out  of  it  rather  than  that  she 
should  become  her  successful  rival  in  the  race  for  Adrian  Dred- 
mond  and  his  title. 

But  she  feared  discovery — she  feared  now,  as  much  as  she 
had  laughed  at  the  idea  before,  that  Brownie  would  have  her 
arrested  for  taking  the  jewels,  and  if  the  circumstance  should 
become  known  to  Mr.  Dredmond,  he  would  undoubtedly  come 
forward,  knowing  what  he  did,  and  testify  to  the  truth  of  her 
statements,  and,  in  that  case,  she  could  only  see  infinite  trouble 
and  disgrace  for  herself. 

She  did  not  know  what  to  do,  or  which  way  to  turn  in  the 
matter.  Had  she  known  Miss  Douglas'  address,  she  would 
have  hastened  to  send  the  casket  to  her,  and  considered  herself 
lucky  to  be  so  well  rid  of  it. 

“If  only  Wilbur  did  not  know  about  it,  mamma  and  I 
could  hide  the  jewels,  and  deny  all  knowledge  of  them,"  she 
murmured,  in  deep  perplexity. 

She  finally  resolved  that  she  would  say  nothing  to  any  one 
concerning  what  Adrian  Dredmond  had  told  her,  but  keep  the 
matter  to  herself  for  a few  days  at  least ; and  if  the  governess 
did  come  to  demand  the  jewels  again,  she  would  tell  her 
mother,  and  persuade  her  to  give  them  up  quietly  and  save  fur- 
ther trouble. 

“At  all  events,"  she  added,  with  a sigh  of  relief,  as  she  went 
to  her  own  room,  “she  is  gone,  and  I've  nothing  more  to  fear 
from  her  charms. " 


AN^  UNSUCCESSFUL  SEARCH, 


^13 

Adrian  Dredmond  left  the  Coolidge  mansion  in  a fever  of 
impatience  and  indignation. 

That  any  one  should  accuse  Brownie  Douglas  of  the  crime 
of  theft  was  sufficient  to  drive  him  wild. 

What  had  she  stolen } 

Surely  nothing  of  Miss  Coolidge's  beauty  or  breeding,  he 
thought,  with  a contemptuous  smile,  for  he  had  fathomed  her 
ill-nature  and  desire  to  injure  the  lovely  girl  at  once,  and  Miss 
Isabel  had  neither  beauty  nor  good  breeding  to  lose. 

‘'She  is  innocent  as  an  angel,"'  he  murmured,  softly,  then 
added,  with  a scowl : “And  they  are  hard-hearted  as  devils  !" 

Did  he  not  know  that  she  had  been  reared  with  tenderest 
care?  Had  she  not  the  blood  of  royalty  in  her  veins?  and  had 
he  not  seen  her  in  all  the  brightness  and  purity  of  her  young 
life,  and  been  assured  of  her  integrity  by  his  friend  Gordon  ? 

How  well  he  remembered  that  scene  in  the  vestibule  of  the 
Art  Gallery,  when  she  had  appeared  like  some  beautiful  vision 
to  him,  with  her  bright,  sweet  face,  and  clad  so  richly,  yet 
simply,  in  her  plain  black  silk,  protected  by  the  linen  ulster. 
How  lovely  she  had  looked,  with  not  a jewel  to  deck  her,  ex- 
cepting that  rich  coral  clasp  at  the  throat. 

How  kind  and  considerate  she  had  been,  although  brimming 
over  with  laughter  at  the  ridiculous  plight  of  the  fashionable 
belle,  and  how  courteously  she  had  addressed  that  clown  who 
had  caused  so  much  trouble  and  embarrassment 

Her  every  look,  tone,  and  movement  had  betokened  the  true 
lady,  both  then  and  recently  when  he  had  met  her  at  the 
opera. 

She  guilty  of  stealing  I 


A!^  UNSUCCESSFUL  SEARCH. 


*■ ' The  angels  would  as  soon  think  of  robbing  Paradise  as  she 
of  purloining  from  Isabel  Coolidge/'  he  said,  indignandy.  ‘‘I 
will  find  her, ''  he  continued;  ‘"she  is  alone  and  friendless  in 
this  great,  strange  city.  How  cruel  of  them  to  turn  her  away 
without  any  notice,  and  of  course  with  no  recommendation  by 
which  to  procure  another  situation.  I will  seek  her  and  find 
her,  and  then  use  my  influence  to  secure  her  a position,  un- 
less-  

He  did  not  complete  the  sentence,  but  the  rich  blood  mounted 
*30  his  temples  as  he  walked  on  with  moody  brow,  the  pain  and 
iisappointment  growing  every  moment  keener  in  his  heart.  He 
had  not  been  able  to  banish  Brownie  s lovely  face  from  his  mem- 
ory since  that  first  meeting  in  the  Art  Gallery. 

He  had  been  greatly  disappointed  not  to  see  her  again  ; of 
course  he  could  not  force  himself  upon  her  during  her  first 
great  grief  for  her  aunt,  and  when  he  next  inquired  for  her  of 
his  friend  Gordon,  he  learned,  to  his  dismay,  that  she  had  left 
the  city. 

He  had  been  startled  upon  beholding  her  as  she  came  on 
board  the  steamer  at  New  York,  and  when  he  saved  her  from 
falling,  and  held  her  clasped  for  one  moment  in  his  arms,  the 
blood  coursed  wildly  in  his  veins,  and  he  felt  almost  as  if  she 
belonged  to  him.  Then  he  lost  sight  of  her  at  Liverpool,  and 
met  her  again  at  the  opera  in  London  ; and  now,  just  as  he  had 
been  so  sure  of  seeing  her  again,  and  becoming  more  inti- 
mately acquainted  with  her,  she  had  vanished,  leaving  him  more 
disappointed  than  he  had  ever  been  over  anything  before. 

That  evening,  as  he  sat  in  his  own  room,  his  valet  brought 
him  a n@te. 


AN'  UNSUCCESSFUL  SEAFCN. 


^15 


It  was  signed  by  Wilbur  Coolidge,  and  told  him  that  he 
would  find  Miss  Douglas  at  the  ‘‘Washington/' 

Wilbur,  it  will  be  remembered,  was  in  his  mother's  room 
when  the  servant  brought  in  Mr.  Dredmond's  card,  and  asked 
for  Miss  Douglas. 

He  had  also  seen  the  young  nobleman  when  he  went  away, 
Rnd  noting  his  disappointed  and  pained  appearance,  concluded 
that  his  sister  had  prejudiced  him  against  Brownie. 

He  knew  that  the  young  man  would  befriend  the  friendless 
l^irl  if  it  was  possible;  he  knew,  also,  that  he  was  at  present 
powerless  to  do  so,  and  bearing  his  sister  no  love  for  the  part 
which  she  had  played  in  this  trouble,  he  resolved  to  be  even 
with  her  by  giving  Adrian  Miss  Douglas'  address,  and  let  what 
would  come  of  it. 

As  early  the  following  morning  as  it  would  do,  Adrian  Dred- 
mond  presented  himself  at  the  “Washington,"  and  inquired 
for  Miss  Douglas. 

The  clerk  turned  to  his  book  and  looked  over  the  names  of 
the  new  arrivals. 

Hers  was  not  there  ! 

Mr.  Dredmond  was  in  despair. 

“Are  you  sure?"  he  asked,  anxiously. 

For  reply  the  clerk  placed  the  book  before  him,  and  pointed 
with  his  finger  to  the  list  of  arrivals  for  the  last  two  days. 

It  was  even  as  he  had  said ; her  name  was  not  there  1 

“Did  no  young  lady  arrive  here  alone  yesterday?"  Adrian 
asked,  thinking  that  possibly  she  might  have  assumed  another 
name  in  her  distress. 

The  clerk  sneered  and  regarded  him  curiously. 


AM  UMSUCCESSFUL  SEARCH, 


ii6 

*‘No;  it  is  very  seldom  that  ladies  come  here  unattended,  ** 
he  said. 

Mr.  Dredmond  colored  angrily. 

Must  he  hear  her  maligned  even  here  ? 

Disgusted  with  the  man,  and  deeply  disappointed,  he  tbrev^ 
feim  a sovereign  for  his  trouble,  and  went  away. 

“ I will  find  her  ! where  can  she  be .?  has  anything  happened 
to  her  T he  asked  himself  almost  in  despair. 

For  two  days  after  he  returned  to  the  Washington,  making 
the  same  inquiries  and  receiving  the  same  answer. 

No,  Brownie  Douglas  had  not  been  there,  and  she  nevef 
came. 

He  sought  her  at  every  respectable  hotel  in  London,  but  ne^. 
a trace  of  her  could  he  find. 

He  haunted  the  strec  is  where  genteel  lodgings  were  adver- 
tised, but  without  success. 

On  the  Sabbath  he  walked  the  streets,  peering  into  every 
young  face  that  he  met,  but  those  clear  brown  eyes  never  greeted 
his  weary  search,  and  that  lovely  face  was  but  a vision  in  his 
memory. 

Monday  he  went  to  Wilbur  and  told  him  of  Miss  Douglas’ 
strange  disappearance,  and  his  fruitless  search  for  her  ; and  the 
young  man  was  nearly  distracted  himself. 

'‘They  have  driven  her  to  her  death,  curse  them  he  mut- 
tered fiercely,  and  he  told  Adrian  the  story  of  the  jewels. 

His  father  had  returned  unexpectedly,  arid  he  acquainted 
him  also  with  the  facts  of  the  case. 

A scene  ensued  which  was  long  remembered  by  both  Isabel 


AN  UNSUCCESSFUL  SEAFCN 


217 


and  her  mother,  while  Mr.  Coolidge  spared  no  trouble  or  ex- 
pense to  find  the  unfortunate  girl, 

Wilbur  had  been  so  bound  up  in  his  own  sorrow  that  he  had 
paid  no  attention  to  the  number  of  the  cab  in  which  Brownie 
had  gone  away,  neither  had  he  noticed  the  driver ; so  that  al- 
though he  sought  out  and  questioned  every  cabby  that  he  could 
find,  he  could  gain  no  clew  to  the  missing  girl. 

Mr.  Coolidge  advertised  and  engaged  a detective  to  look  her 
up,  while  Adrian  Dredmond  and  Wilbur  haunted  the  streets 
day  and  night,  but  all  to  no  purpose. 

Beautiful  Brownie  Douglas — abused,  insulted,  friendless — 
Aeemed  to  have  dropped  out  of  existence  as  compWelv  as  a star 
when  it  fells  from  its  place  in  the  heavens  1 


2x8 


A STARTLING  RECOGNITION 


CHAPTER  XX.  I 

A STARTLING  RECOGNITION. 

Meanwhile  the  evening  of  Lady  Peaseweirs  drawing-room 
came  and  went. 

Isabel  Coolidge  spared  no  pains  or  expense  to  make  herself 
captivating  for  the  occasion,  and  she  succeeded  admirably. 

Her  mind  dwelt  continually  upon  Adrian  Dredmond,  and 
the  hope  of  ultimately  winning  him  for  herself ; for  she  had 
been  told  that  his  grandfather  possessed  a rent-roll  of  sixty 
thousand  pounds  yearly,  while  the  young  man  himself  had  quite 
a fortune  in  his  own  right ; and  although  she  did  not  stop  to 
analyze  the  feelings  of  her  heart  toward  him,  yet  her  interest  in 
him  was  evidently  gauged  somewhat  according  to  his  expecta- 
tions. 

Her  father  s unexpected  return,  and  his  anger  at  her  own  and 
her  mother's  treatment  of  Miss  Douglas,  had  threatened  to  up- 
set all  her  plans,  however. 

He  demanded  that  the  jewels  be  brought  to  him,  and  another 
exciting  scene  ensued  over  them. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  he  was  somewhat  confounded  him- 
self when  he  beheld  them,  and  a feeling  of  doubt  entered  his 
mind  regarding  Brownie's  honesty ; but  he  would  not  confess  it 
to  his  family,  and  censured  them  in  no  light  terms  for  the  dk' 


A STARTLING  RECOGNITION. 


219 


honorable  way  in  which  they  had  become  possessed  of  the  rare 
stones. 

It  all  ended  in  angry  tears  on  the  mother's  and  daughter's  part, 
and  in  his  taking  charge  of  those  unfortunate  trinkets  which 
had  caused  so  much  trouble,  and  locking  them  securely  up. 

The  morning  of  Lady  Peasewell's  drawing-room  Isabel  sought 
her  mother,  discontent  written  upon  every  line  of  her  fair, 
proud  face. 

Mamma,"  she  said,  ‘‘I  hav®  not  a decent  jewel  to  weal 
with  my  costume  to-night.” 

‘‘I  am  sure  you  always  considered  your  diamonds  good 
enough  for  anything  until  you  saw  those  others,”  Mrs.  Coolidge 
replied,  in  an  injured  tone. 

^ ‘ But  I had  set  my  heart  upon  wearing  that  tiara,  and  that 
superb  necklace.  It  is  too  bad.  ” 

‘‘It  is  all  too  bad  from  beginning  to  end,  that  our  trip  abroad 
must  be  spoiled  by  that  girl.  Wilbur  looks  as  if  he  could  never 
forgive  us,  and  your  father  is  very  angry  with  you  for  entering 
her  room  and  pulling  over  her  things,  and  I advise  you  not  to 
mention  the  subject  to  him  again.  ” 

“ Humph ! It  seems  to  me  that  he  is  wonderfully  interested 
in  Miss  Douglas'  welfare  for  a married  man,”  sneered  the  dutiful 
daughter. 

“There!  you  can  leave  my  presence  if  you  are  going  to  talk 
in  that  way  1”  returned  Mrs.  Coolidge,  coloring  an  angry  red. 

She  was  somewhat  sensitive  upon  that  point  herself,  although 
she  did  not  like  to  confess  it. 

Isabel  dawdled  away  the  morning  in  a state  of  fretful  unhap- 


iZO 


A STARTLING  RECOGNITION. 


piness,  and  declared  to  herself,  over  and  over  again,  that  her 
appearance  would  be  ruined  without  the  governess'  jewels. 

After  dinner,  however,  her  father  complained  of  a raging 
headache ; two  hours  later  he  was  in  a high  fever,  and  all 
thoughts  of  his  attending  the  evening's  festivities  were  relin- 
quished. 

From  that  moment  Isabel's  spirits  rose,  the  clouds  vanished 
from  her  brow,  and  she  was  even  heard  humming  a gay  opera 
air. 

Wilbur  can  act  as  our  escort,  mamma  ; so  we  shall  be  all 
right,"  she  said,  when  her  mother  complained  of  the  circum- 
stance as  spoiling  all  their  pleasure. 

I have  no  heart  for  it,  and  would  not  go  myself,  were  it  not 
on  your  account, " she  replied,  wearily. 

Her  husband's  displeasure,  and  the  fate  of  the  missing  gov- 
erness, still  weighed  heavily  on  her  conscience. 

A few  hours  later  she  and  Wilbur  were  waiting  in  the  draw- 
ing-room for  Isabel  to  make  her  appearance. 

‘‘Does  my  amiable  sister  contemplate  a brilliant  conquest 
to-night,  that  she  is  so  long  making  her  toilet  ?"  sneered  the 
young  man,  who  had  been  pressed  into  the  service,  and  was 
impatient  of  the  delay. 

“ Do  speak  a little  more  kindly  of  Isabel,  my  son, "said  Mrs. 
Coolidge,  adding,  with  a heavy  sigh  : “In  all  probability  she 
will  marry  some  day,  and  it  is  desirable  that  she  should  make  a 
good  match." 

• .“.Certainly ; only  there  may  be  a difference  of  opinion  as  ta 
what  a ‘good  match'  is,"  he  returned,  sarcastically. 


A STARTLING  RECOGNITION. 


221 


‘‘I  consider  any  one  who  occupies  a good  position  in  the 
world,  and  who  has  plenty  of  money,  an  eligible  parti.” 

Regardless  of  either  heart,  brain,  or  principles,''  interrupted 
Wilbur,  cynically. 

Why  will  you  be  so  disagreeable,  Wilbur?  Of  course,  I 
expect  your  sister  will  exercise  good  judgment  in  the  matter, 
and  I have  no  fear  of  her  letting  herself  down,  or  losing  her 
head  by  any  silly  nonsense,”  retorted  Mrs.  Coolidge,  pointedly. 

Wilbur  understood  her  insinuation  perfectly,  but  would  not 
notice  it  enough  to  reply,  and  just  then  the  rustle  of  rich,  trail- 
ing garments  was  heard  upon  the  stairs. 

A moment  later  the  door  opened,  and  Isabel  entered. 

There  was  an  instant's  silence  as  both  mother  and  son  turned 
to  contemplate  her. 

‘‘Isabel !''  exclaimed  the  former,  in  tones  of  gratified  pride. 

“Whew  !”  whistled  her  brother,  under  his  breath. 

There  was  cause,  truly,  for  these  ejaculations  of  pleasure  and 
surprise,  for  the  young  girl  certainly  had  the  appearance  of  a 
queen,  and,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  she  was  handsome. 

Her  tall  figure  was  clad  in  a rich  white  silk,  with  raised 
igures  of  golden  maize  wrought  upon  it.  It  fitted  her  elegantly, 
and  swept  out  behind  her  in  a graceful  train.  It  was  very 
aimply  made,  being  trimmed  only  by  a fall  of  elegant  lace  from 
the  low-cut  corsage  and  sleeves.  Its  very  richness  was  enough 
in  itself. 

Her  hair  was  arranged  a la  coronet,  around  which  glistened 
Brownie's  lovely  tiara  of  pearls,  opals,  and  diamonds ; while 
upon  her  neck  she  wore  the  wonderful  diamond  necklace,  fron\. 
which  was  suspended  the  cross  which  matched  the  tiara.  " 


222 


A STARTLING  RECOGNITION, 


her  white  arms  she  wore  her  own  bracelets,  which,  although  not 
so  rich  as  the  necklace,  yet  went  with  it  very  well. 

She  was  absolutely  perfect  and  dazzling,  from  the  crown  of 
her  haughty  head  to  the  sole  of  her  elegantly  embroidered  satin 
slipper. 

‘ ‘ Will  I do,  mamma  V she  asked,  enjoying  their  silent  ad- 
miration, and  sweeping  Mrs.  Coolidge  a profound  courtesy. 

Where  did  you  find  those  ornaments  her  mother  asked, 
nervously,  and  unheeding  her  question,  while  Wilbur  scowled 
his  disapprobation  savagely. 

Why,  you  know  papa  is  sick,  and  it  was  a very  easy  matter 
to  get  his  keys,  unlock  his  private  desk,  and  get  them,''  she  said, 
and  laughed  lightly,  although  secretly  she  was  anxious  lest  there 
should  be  another  scene. 

‘‘He  would  be  very  angry,  Isabel,  if  he  knew  it,"  returned 
her  mother,  trying  to  speak  severely,  yet,  in  her  heart,  gloating 
over  her  daughter's  magnificent  appearance. 

“ I cannot  help  it,  mamma.  I had  set  my  heart  upon  wear- 
ing them  ; they  set  off  my  dress  superbly  ; and  I was  bound  I 
would  not  be  disappointed.  He  need  never  know  it,  for  I can 
return  them  just  as  soon  as  we  get  home  again,  jnd  no  one  will 
be  harmed,"  she  replied,  willfully. 

“Your  sense  of  honor  is  extremely  delicate,  surely,  Isabel, 
said  Wilbur,  mockingly. 

“No  one  asked  your  opinion,  and  you  can  just  hold  your 
tongue.  I shall  go  to  Lady  Peasewell's  just  as  I am,  and  he 
may  help  it  who  can  r she  retorted,  rudely,  and  they  knew  it 
would  be  useless  to  say  anything  more  to  her. 

“Isabel,  you  do  look  magnificent  ]"  whispered  Mrs.  Coolidge, 


A STARTLING  RECOGNITION 


221 


when  they  had  arrived  at  Lady  PeaseweH's,  and  were  in  the 
dressing-room  putting  the  last  touches  to  their  toilet 

Don't  I ? I tell  you  this  was  worth  a little  finesse”  she  re- 
plied, surveying  herself  admiringly  in  the  double  swinging 
mirrors ; and  her  mother,  in  her  heart,  was  glad  that  she  had 
succeeded  in  getting  the  jewels,  although  she  feared  the  conse- 
quences should  the  fact  be  discovered. 

‘‘Who  is  that  queenly  girl  ?"  asked  a fine-looking  young  man 
of  another. 

They  were  standing  in  the  door-way  leading  from  the  dancing- 
room  to  the  conservatory,  where  they  had  been  watching  the 
dancers  for  the  last  ten  minutes. 

Isabel  had  just  swept  by  them  in  all  her  elegance,  and  it  was 
^he  who  had  called  forth  the  above  question. 

“That  is  a Miss  Coolidge.  She  is  an  American,  and  belongs 
to  a very  wealthy  family,  who  are  spending  a year  abroad." 

“ I should  judge  she  did  belong  to  a wealthy  family  from  her 
appearance.  Why,  she  has  at  least  a thousand  pounds  in  dia- 
monds on  her  \”  said  the  first  speaker. 

“She  is  a stunner,  eh 

“She  is  that.  She  is  the  most  striking  woman  present  this 
evening ; and  yet,  aside  from  her  jewels,  her  dress  is  the 
simple.  Do  you  know  her  ?" 

Yes  ; I have  met  her  several  times." 

“Will  you  introduce  me 

“Certainly,  Sir  Charles." 

A few  moments-  later,  as  Isabel  was  resting  after  her  danccv 
saw  two  gentlemen  approaching  her. 


224 


A STARTLING  RECOGNITION 


‘ * Miss  Coolidge,  allow  me  to  present  Sir  Charles  Randall, 
who  requests  the  pleasure  of  an  introduction  to  you. 

Sir  Charles  bowed  low,  and  Miss  Coolidge,  rising,  swept  him 
a graceful  courtesy,  and  soon  after  was  again  circling  around  the 
room,  supported  upon  the  arm  of  a baronet. 

She  had  heard  of  Sir  Charles  Randall,  but  had  never  seen  him 
before.  She  knew  he  was  reputed  to  be  very  wealthy,  being  an 
only  son,  and  there  was  a prospect  of  more  property  to  come 
in  the  future  from  a rich  old  aunt. 

She  had  watched  long  for  the  appearance  of  Adrian  Dred- 
mond,  hoping  to  captivate  him  at  once  by  her  charms.  But 
when  he  did  come,  he  only  noticed  her  presence  by  the  haugh- 
tiest bow,  and  a scornful  curl  of  his  lips,  as  his  eyes  fell  upon 
the  jewels  she  wore.  He  had  never  seen  them  before,  but 
instinct  told  him  at  once  that  they  were  the  ones  which  had 
caused  so  much  trouble,  and  he  despised  her  so  heartily  that  she 
knew  at  once  that  all  hope  of  winning  him  was  useless. 

Therefore,  after  her  introduction  to  Sir  Charles,  she  had  said 
to  herself  that  the  next  best  thing  to  a lord  was  a baronet,  and 
being  a very  attractive,  noble-looking  man,  she  exerted  herself 
to  charm  him. 

That  night  was  one  long  to  be  remembered  by  Isabel  , 
Coolidge  ! 

She  was  indeed,  as  Sir  Charles  had  said,  the  most  striking- 
looking  woman  in  the  room.  Admirers  flocked  around  her, 
introductions  pressed  upon  her,  men  raved  about  her,  and  wo-  * 
men  yielded  the  palm  to  her  for  the  time  being : and  for  once 
she  realized  that  she  was  being  borne  upon  the  topmost  wave  t 
f)f  popularity,  J 


A STARTLING  RECOGNITION. 


225 

Mrs.  Coolidge  was  in  her  element,  and  deemed  it  the  proud- 
est moment  of  her  life,  and  the  castles  which  she  reared  for  her 
daughter  in  imagination  were  of  the  grandest  character. 

Sir  Charles  was  evidently  very  much  interested  in  the  fair 
American,  and  certainly  if  she  had  only  been  as  pure  and  beau- 
tiful at  heart  as  she  seemed,  she  would  have  been  well  worthy 
of  all  the  admiration  which  she  excited. 

After  his  third  dance  with  her  he  led  her  away  to  the  con- 
servatory to  rest. 

As  they  were  passing  through  the  crowd  they  met  a white- 
haired,  royal-looking  gentleman,  who,  as  his  eyes  rested  upon 
Isabel,  suddenly  paused,  started  on,  then  turned  back  again 
and  gave  her  a keen,  searching  glance,  and  finally  moved  on, 
after  bowing  to  her  companion. 

Who  was  that?’'  she  asked,  strangely  interested,  and  vainb 
attributing  the  man’s  queer  actions  to  admiration  of  herself. 

‘'That  was  his  lordship,  the  Earl  of  Dunforth,”  was  the 
reply. 

Sir  Charles  led  her  to  a seat  beneath  a spreading  palm  tree, 
then  excusing  himself,  he  went  to  get  her  an  ice. 

She  had  danced  a great  deal,  and  was  tired  and  heated. 

With  a sigh  of  content,  she  leaned  back  in  her  seat,  and  dre^rf 
off  her  gloves. 

Upon  the  forefinger  of  her  left  hand  there  gleamed  Miss  Me- 
hetabels  engagement-ring,  its  central  pearl  surrounded  with 
its  six  pure  brilliants. 

She  had  been  determined  to  make  the  most  of  her  opportip 
nity  that  evening,  fearing  she  would  never  have  another,  and 


,35  ^ STARTLING  RECOGNITION. 

while  putting  on  the  other  jewels,  this  had  caught  her  fancy, 
and  she  had  slipped  it  upon  her  finger. 

Sir  Charles  was  detained  longer  than  he  had  intended  to  be 
gonCy  and  while  she  sat  there  silently  thinking,  her  hand  care- 
lessly resting  upon  the  back  of  the  seat,  she  was  suddenly 
•tartled  by  having  it  seized  by  some  one  behind  her,  in  a grip 
of  iron,  while  a voice,  hoarse  with  suppressed  feeling,  said : 

‘‘Where  did  you  get  this.?  Young  woman,  where  did  you 
get  this  ring.?" 

She  started  to  her  feet,  and  turning  quickly,  found  herself 
face  to  face  with  that  white-haired,  stately-looking  man  whom 
but  a few  moments  before  she  had  inquired  about — Lord  Dun- 
forth ! 

To  say  that  she  was  startled  is  to  say  the  very  least,  for  the 
man's  face  was  as  white  as  his  hair,  his  eyes  dilated  and  fixed 
upon  the  ring,  his  lips  set  and  livid,  while  the  hand  wLich 
grasped  hers  shook  as  if  he  had  been  stricken  with  the  palsy. 

“Where  did  you  get  it.?"  he  demanded  again,  this  time 
somewhat  impatiently. 

Then,  as  she  still  continued  silent  from  fear,  and  not  know- 
ing how  to  answer  him,  he  looked  up  in  her  face. 

“And  this! — and  this! — oh,  God!  and  this!"  he  cried,  as 
his  eyes  caught  the  gleam  of  the  other  jewels,  his  voice  rising 
in  pain  with  each  word,  as  he  touched,  first  the  cross,  then  the 
necklace,  and  last  the  glittering  tiara  upon  her  golden  head. 

She  began  to  think  him  a lunatic,  or  else  that  the  gems  were 
bewitched  and  were  about  to  get  her  into  deeper  trouble. 

“They — they  are  heir-looms,"  she  finally  managed  to  artictt' 
late,  and  speaking  at  random. 


A STARTLING  RECOGNITION, 


22J 


^'Did  she  give  them  to  you  V 

‘‘Whom?" 

“Meta — my  Meta — Mehetabel  Douglas!''  he  said,  speaking 
incoherently,  almost  wildly. 

“Yes,  they  used  to  be  hers,"  Isabel  said,  thinking  only  of 
the  despised  and  injured  governess,  and  inwardly  quaking  as 
she  wondered  what  would  come  next. 

“Used  to  be  1"  he  cried,  catching  at  her  words,  while  his  face 
grew  almost  convulsed- — “used  to  be!  Then  she  is  dead! 
Ah,  me  !"  and  he  caught  his  breath  in  a hard,  dry  sob.  “This 
was  our  engagement-ring,"  he  continued,  touching  it  again, 
tenderly.  “How  beautiful  she  was  the  night  I put  this  upon 
her  finger  I There  is  not  a woman  here  to-night  as  fair  as  she 
was  then  ! And  these  other  gems  were  her  bridal  gifts,  and  I 
thought  to  see  her  wear  them  when  she  should  have  been  my 
wife.  But  the  time  never  came.  That  is  long  ago — ages  ago, 
it  seems  to  me ! I thought  the  memory  of  it  had  faded  out  into 
but  a shadow,  but  the  sight  of  these  things  to-night  is  like  the 
keen  edge  of  a knife  in  my  heart." 

His  voice  had  grown  infinitely  sad.  He  appeared  quite  un- 
nerved; his  lips  quivered,  and  tears  stood  in  his  fine  eyes,  while 
he  gazed  upon  that  ring,  as  if  he  were  looking  his  last  upon  his 
dearest  friend  who  was  dead. 

“ Was  she  your  mother he  at  length  asked,  breaking  the 
spell,  and  looking  up  at  her. 

“No,  she  was  not  my  mother,’'  Isabel  answered,  guiltily, 
scarce  knowing  what  to  say,  and  yet  strangely  moved  by  his 
wild,  sad  words. 

“ Your  aunt  perhaps,  then^ — she  had  a brother." 


228 


A STARTLING  RECOGNITTOK 


‘‘But — but/' he  added,  with  sudden,  thoughr;  are  not 

the  one  who  wore  the  corals  that  night  at  the  opera ; she 
was  short,  and  darker  than  you.  Those  were  my  gifts  to  Meta, 
and  she  wore  them  last  on  that  dreadful  night  Ah ! ah ! I 
did  not  think  the  pain  was  so  bitter  still ! But  (tny  heart  was 
broken  then,  and  though  I have  tried  to  live  bravely,  I find  the 
wound  is  not  healed  even  now. " 

His  lordship  seemed  to  have  lost  all  knowledge  of  where  he 
was,  in  living  over  the  sad  past,  and  there  is  no  knowing  how 
long  he  might  have  gone  on  in  his  rambling  talk,  had  no^*'  Sir 
Charles  now  made  his  appearance,  bearing  a salver  filled  u ith 
dainties  for  his  companion. 

Isabel  was  infinitely  relieved  to  see  him,  for  she  was  suffering 
torture  under  this  forced  inquisition. 

The  young  man  bowed  to  his  lordship  again  as  he  drew  near, 
although  his  face  expressed  some  surprise  at  finding  him  con- 
versing with  Isabel. 

His  appearance  aroused  his  lordship  effectually.  He  hatf 
seemed  lost  and  bewildered  at  sight  of  those  mementoes  of  tb 
past,  which  for  him  possessed  so  much  of  painful  interest.  But 
now  he  recovered  himself  almost  instantly ; the  look  of  prid^ 
returned  to  his  face;  he  drew  his  tall  form  to  its  fullest  height, 
and  "with  a courteous  though  dignified  inclination  to  Isabel,  he 
said,  in  his  usual  stately  way  : 

! “I  beg  your  pardon  for  my  seeming  rudeness.  There  are  cer- 
tain circumstances  under  which  one  will  sometimes  forget  one's 
self.  I beg  you  to  forgive  and  forget  what  has  just  occurred." 

He  turned  and  left  them  almost  as  abruptly  as  he  came, 
while  Isabel  sank  back  into  her  seat,  weak  and  frightened,  af- 


A STARTLING  RECOGNITION 


229 


though  coNsiderably  enlightened  upon  some  points.  Her  tongue 
had  seemed  glued  to  the  roof  of  her  mouth,  and  she  could  not 
have  answered  his  questions  had  he  given  her  the  opportunity. 
She  was  immensely  relieved,  however,  that  it  had  not  been 
required  of  her ; for  she  feared  she  should  have  committed  her- 
self, since  it  was  evident  that  he  knew  the  history  of  the  jewels 
which  she  wore. 

She  realized  now  that  Mehetabel  Douglas,  the  governess, 
must  have  been  a relative  of  another  Mehetabel  Douglas,  who 
had  once  been  engaged  to  this  peer  of  the  realm,  and  between 
whom  some  misunderstanding  had  risen  and  caused  a separa- 
tion. This  accounted  for  that  card  with  the  strange  titled  names 
upon  it,  and  also  for  the  splendor  which  had  so  astonished  her, 
and  which  she  could  not  reconcile  with  Miss  Douglas'  other- 
wise destitute  condition. 

She  had  then  wronged  the  governess ; the  property  was  hers 
beyond  a doubt,  and  what  should  she  do  about  it.? 

She  was  filled  with  dismay;  she  could  not  return  the  jewels, 
for  the  young  girl  was  apparently  lost  to  them  forever,  and  she 
would  have  to  carry  about  with  her  always  the  unpleasant  con- 
sciousness that  she  was,  as  Wilbur  had  said,  the  thief. 

But  it  would  not  do  to  indulge  in  such  thoughts  now,  and  in 
explanation  of  what  Sir  Charles  had  just  witnessed,  she  said  : 

‘ ' His  lordship  thought  from  my  appearance  that  I w^'the  child 
©f  some  one  whom  he  knew,  and  he  spoke  to  me  very  ab- 
ruptly. " 

‘*My  lord  is  very  eccentric  about  some  things  ; he  is  getting 
quite  old,  too,  and  people  do  not  mind  him,"  replied  Sir 
Charles,  giving  the  matter  no  further  thought. 


2^0 


THAT  VOICE/ 


CHAPTER  XXL 

THAT  VOICE  ! 

Isabel  and  her  mother  were  jubilant  over  the  result  of  Lady 
Peasewelhs  drawing-room. 

The  occasion  had  been  one  of  signal  triumph  for  the  former, 
fcr  she  had  been  universally  declared  the  belle  of  the  evening—, 
the  reigning  star  in  all  that  brilliant  company. 

Not  so  much  indeed  on  account  of  her  superior  beauty — for 
she  could  lay  no  claim  to  beauty  of  features — as, her  stately 
presence,  fascinating  address,  and  her  rich  and  elegant  attire. 

Sir  Charles  Randal  had  undoubtedly  been  deeply  impressed, 
for  after  his  introduction  to  her  he  had  scarce  left  her  side 
during  the  remainder  of  the  evening. 

He  called  the  next  day,  and  the  next  he  came  to  escort  her 
to  Buckingham  Palace,  the  queen  and  her  retinue  being  absent, 
and  he  having  obtained  passes  to  visit  that  royal  residence  so.- 
fraught  with  historic  interest. 

These  incidents  led  to  a more  intimate  acquaintance,  until 
the  young  baronet  became  her  almost  constant  attendant  at  the 
opera  and  other  places  of  amusement^  and  it  soon  grew  to  be 
common  talk  that  the  fair  American  was  likely  to  win  him  for  a 
husband. 

Isabels  heart  often  turned  longingly  toward  Adrian  Dred- 


THAT  ‘V§TCE! 


231 


mond,  for  she  had  been  deeply  touched  by  him.  He  was  her 
ideal  of  manly  excellence  and  nobility,  but  she  knew  how  use- 
less was  that  longing,  for  that  look  of  scorn  which  he  had  given 
her  at  Lady  PeasewelFs  told  her  but  too  plainly  how  heartily  he 
despised  her. 

She  had  met  him  since  at  a number  of  places  of  amusement, 
but  he  never  asked  her  to  dance,  or  noticed  her  presence  save 
by  a grave,  cool  bow,  and  the  involuntary  curling  of  his  hand- 
some lips ; so  she  turned  the  battery  of  her  charms  upon  the 
baronet,  and  with  much  better  success. 

Sir  Charles  was  accounted  a very  fine  young  man,  and  a great 
catch,  for  he,  too,  was  very  rich ; so  that  Mrs.  Coolidge  spread 
her  motherly  wings,  ruffled  her  most  gorgeous  plumage,  and 
made  much  of  him,  feeling  immensely  gratified  at  her  daugh 
ter  s evident  conquest,  although  no  proposals  had  as  yet  beep 
made. 

Two  months  passed  thus ; the  search  for  Brownie  had  beer 
given  up  by  Mr.  Coolidge,  who  could  not  gain  the  vestige  of  a 
clew  to  her  whereabouts,  and  he  finally  came  to  the  conclusion 
that,  despairing  of  obtaining  a situation  in  exclusive  and  aristo- 
cratic old  England,  she  had  returned  to  her  native  land,  hoping 
to  be  more  successful  there. 

What  to  do  with  her  property  was  a puzzle  to  him,  and  he 
was  greatly  troubled  on  account  of  it,  but  he  could  only  lock  it 
carefully  away,  hoping  some  time  in  the  future  to  see  her  and 
return  it. 

Isabel  had  been  successful  in  returning  the  gems  she  had 
worn  to  the  casket  without  his  knowledge,  and  emboldened  by 
her  good  luck,  she  continued,  from  time  to  time^  to  abstract 


THAT  VOICE! 


Ill 

<5ome  Df  x:hem  to  garnish  her  rayishing  toilets.  At  length  her 
triumph  was  complete. 

Sir  Charles  Randal  proposed  and  accepted,  and  great  was 
the  rejoicing  thereof 

His  mother  at  first  tos  somewhat  troubled  at  the  idea  of  his 
marrying  out  of  his  own  country — she  had  hoped  he  would 
choose  some  one  from  the  ^lobility ; but  as  she  was  eager  to 
multiply  his  worldly  possessions,  and  she  had  heard  such  ac- 
counts of  Mr.  Coolidge's  fabulous  wealth,  she  consented  as 
gracefully  as  possible,  and  the  contract  was  finally  concluded  to 
the  satisfaction  of  all  parties. 

Mr.  Coolidge,  who  could  not  fail  to  Aonor  the  young  man, 
told  Isabel  that  she  was  getting  a husband  much  too  good  for 
her,  unless  she  mended  her  ways  in  the  future,  and  it  certainly 
seemed  as  if  she  had  adopted  his  advice,  for  she  became  so 
amiable,  apparently,  that  she  excited  the  admiration  of  all  for 
the  time. 

Lady  Randal  was  a widow. 

At  the  death  of  her  husband  she  had  been  left  wiL  two  sons, 
one  fifteen,  the  other,  which  was  Sir  Charles,  ten. 

The  elder  died  in  just  a year  after  his  father,  so  that  Ao 
younger  came  into  the  title  and  property. 

There  had  been  a prospect  two  years  after  Sir  Charles'  bmh 
of  another  addition  to  the  family,  but  Lady  Randal  was  travel- 
ing upon  the  Continent  at  the  time  of  its  birth,  and  remained 
away  a year  after  the  event  occurred ; therefore  it  occasioned 
scarce  any  remark  when  it  was  reported  that  there  was  no  child 
after  all. 

When,  after  her  return  to  England,  a friend  ventured  V? 


THAT  V®ICE! 


m 


speak  of  her  disappointment,  Lady  Randal  had  put  her  black- 
bordered  handkerchief  to  her  eyes,  and  remarked  that  it  was 
so  hardio  lose  one's  children,"  and  there  the  matter  dropped. 

Not  more  than  a week  after  the  engagement  between  Sir 
Charles  and  Isabel  was  announced,  Mr.  Coolidge  was  suddenly 
recalled  to  New  York  upon  important  and  unforeseen  business. 

His  partner  telegraphed  for  his  immediate  return,  and  he  de- 
parted in  great  haste,  having  only  a few  hours  in  which  to  make 
his  preparation  and  catch  the  steamer.  And  in  his  haste  he 
forgot  to  take  with  him,  as  he  had  intended.  Miss  Douglas'  cas- 
ket of  jewels. 

As  soon  as  Lady  Randal  knew  of  his  departure,  she  sent  a 
polite  note,  containing  an  invitation,  to  Mis.  Coolidge  and  her 
family,  to  spend  a month  with  them  at  their  country  seat,  as 
they  were  about  departing  for  a season  from  town. 

This  was  exceedingly  flattering  to  the  Coolidges,  and  the  last 
of  February  found  them  domiciled  at  '‘Vallingham  Hall, "near 
the  ancient  and  beautiful  town  of  West  Mailing,  Kent  County; 
all  but  Wilbur,  who,  still  heart-sore  and  filled  with  anxiety  upon 
Brownie's  account,  resolved  to  try  to  lose  himself  in  a trip  to 
Switzerland  and  the  Alps. 

Lady  Randal  and  her  servants  preceded  her  guests  by  a week 
to  the  Hall,  leaving  Sir  Charles  behind  to  escort  their  visitors, 
so  that  upon  their  arrival  everything  was  in  readiness  for  them, 
and  they  received  a most  cordial  welcome. 

Vallingham  Hall  was  a handsome,  though  rather  an  ancient- 
looking structure,  built  partly  of  brick  and  partly  of  stone. 
The  central  portion  seemed  much  older  than  the  rest,  a couple 

wings  and  other  additions  having  evidently  been  built  on  at 


?34 


TlfAT  VOICE! 


different  times.  It  had  mullioned  windows,  and  wide,  massive 
doors,  which  gave  it  a grand  and  imposing  appearance.  The 
beautiful  ivy,  green  and  luxuriant,  which  clambered  upon  its 
sides  to  the  very  top  of  some  of  its  turrets,  gave  it  also  a pic- 
turesqueness which  made  it  charming  to  every  one,  and  more 
than  one  artist,  enamored  «f  its  beauty,  had  reproduced  it  upon 
canvas. 

About  half  a mile  from  the  Hall,  and  standing  within  the 
limits  of  its  park,  there  was  a charming  little  villa  of  quite 
modern  structure,  and  having  such  an  air  of  comfort  and  cozi- 
ness about  it  that  tempted  the  beholder  to  seek  an  entrance 
and  obtain  a glimpse  wdthin,  wondering  if  the  inside  were  as 
attractive  as  the  outside.  We  are  privileged,  let  us  enter. 

A vestibule,  with  its  floor  of  richly-colored  tiles — ‘'all  Mo- 
saic, choicely  planned'' — led  into  a long,  wide  hall,  which 
divided  the  dwelling  through  the  center. 

On  the  right  was  a charming  drawing-room,  not  too  large, 
and  furnished  with  rare  taste  and  elegance. 

Leading  from  this  was  a small  conservatory,  in  which  were 
gathered  the  choicest  collection  of  plants  to  be  found,  and 
which  filled  the  whole  room  with  fragrance,  while  the  happy 
songsters,  which  hung  in  their  gilded  cages,  made  the  air  reso- 
nant with  melody. 

On  the  left  of  the  hall  were  three  spacious  rooms,  the  first 
an  exquisite  parlor  or  boudoir,  which  connected  with  a sleep- 
ing apartment,  and  which  contained  everything  that  the  most 
fastidious  could  wish  in  the  way  of  comfort  or  luxury,  while 
further  on  was  a library,  filled  with  choice  books  and  work» 
of  art. 


THAT  VOICE! 


23^ 

Back  of  this  was  an  L,  or  sort  of  wing,  containing  the  dining- 
room and  other  apartments,  where  a buxom,  good-natured  dam- 
sel presided  with  vigorous  care  and  skill  in  the  culinary  depart- 
ment. 

Above  were  charming  little  suites  of  rooms,  beautiful  and 
luxurious  enough  to  satisfy  the  most  exacting,  and  fit  bowers 
for  the  fairest  virgins  to  dwell  in. 

The  whole  place  was  a gem,  and  one  could  not  but  cry  with 
a great  poet : 

“ Oh,  all  things  fair  to  sate  the  various  eyes  ! 

Oh,  shapes  and  hues  that  please  them  well !” 

But,  unlike  that  ''Palace  of  Art,’'  one  did  not  come  upon 

Uncertain  shapes  ; nor  unawares 

On  white -eyed  phantasms  weeping  tears  of  bloody 

And  horrible  nightmares.” 

i^o;  everything,  from  the  airy  cupola,  with  itc  many  vich^ 
hued  panes  above,  to  the  solid  foundations  beneath,  was  per-* 
feet,  harmonious,  and  cheerful. 

But  what  of  the  occupants  1 

More  of  them  anon. 

Vallingham  Hall  was  already  gay  with  company  when  the 
Coolidges  arrived,  and  more  was  expected  the  following  week. 

Just  who  the  maternal  Coolidge  could  not  learn,  although 
quite  anxious  to  do  so,  and  she  had  questioned  the  maid  who 
was  assigned  to  serve  them  as  far  as  politeness  would  allow. 

Excursions,  croquet  parties,  archery  parties,  and  picnics  were 
planned  for  every  day,  when  the  weather  would  allow,  while  the 
evenings  were  filled  yvith  gayety  and  pleasure  within  the  great 
drawing-room. 


THAT  VOICE! 


236 

Sir  Charles'  courtship  seemed  to  be  of  the  most  blissful  na^ 
ture,  at  least  to  two  persons. 

Isabel  was  brilliant  from  her  conquest,  and  rendered  herself 
80  fascinating  to  everybody  that  the  young  man  was  nearly  over- 
whelmed with  congratulations  at  having  won  so  bonny  and 
wealthy  a bride,  although  among  some  of  the  high-born  dam- 
sels, who  were  husband-hunting  for  themselves,  there  was  now 
and  then  the  curl  of  a red  lip,  and  murmur  of  scorn  about 
‘‘plebeian  blood." 

Lady  Randal,  ignoring  caste  entirely,  was  always  eulogizing 
Isabel’s  “elegant  manners,  and  her  exquisite  taste  in  dress,"  and 
promising  herself  so  much  happiness  with  a daughter,  which 
she  had  always  wanted,  but  never  had. " 

Mrs.  Coolidge  spared  neither  labor  nor  expense  for  her  eldest, 
and  her  wardrobe  was  the  most  recherche  of  anything  to  be  seen 
among  all  the  visitors  at  the  Hall,  while  the  jewels  which  she 
wore  were  a marvel  to  every  one,  and  helped  to  swell  the  re- 
ports of  her  vast  wealth. 

When  she  found  that  her  father  had  departed  without  taking 
them  with  him,  she  was  delighted,  and  appropriated  them  with- 
out a scruple,  and,  as  time  wore  away,  she  began  to  look  upon 
them  as  almost  belonging  to  her. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  she  stood  a little  bit  in  awe  of  her 
high-born  lover. 

It  did  not  take  her  long  to  discover  that  he  was  actuated  only 
by  the  loftiest  sentiments. 

His  manner  was  as  courteous  to  a servant  or  an  inferior  as  to 
an  equal,  and  he  never  stopped  to  consider  the  position  of  any 
one  when  granting  a favor. 


THAT  VOICE) 


m 


The  beggar  or  the  peer  was  befriended  with  equal  kindness. 

Open  and  frank  himself,  he  could  not  tolerate  deception  or 
hypocrisy  in  any  one,  and  a deliberate  wrong  incurred  his  deep- 
est displeasure. 

Isabel  had  seen  him  furious  with  a servant  one  day  for  treat- 
ing with  unkindness  a poor  little  boy  who  had  come  to  the  door 
begging  for  bread  for  his  mother,  who  was  ill. 

Then  he  had  turned  tenderly  to  the  little  fellow,  listening 
patiently  while  he  told  his  story,  after  which,  with  his  own 
hands,  he  filled  a basket  with  dainties,  and  then  returned  with 
the  child  to  his  home,  to  ascertain  what  further  aid  was  needed. 

Of  course,  the  haughty  and  selfish  girl  could  feel  no  sympa- 
thy with  any  such  sentiments  so  foreign  to  her  own  nature ; but 
having  once  learned  Sir  Charles'  idiosyncracies,  and  being  ex- 
tremely anxious  to  share  his  coronet  and  plethoric  purse,  she 
exerted  herself  to  the  utmost  to  blind  his  eyes,  and,  to  all  out- 
ward appearance,  she  became  a most  earnest  advocate  of  all  his 
philanthropic  schemes,  much  to  his  satisfaction,  and  the  secret 
contempt  and  amusement  of  Viola  and  Alma,  who  neglected 
no  opportunity  when  alone  with  their  sister  to  torment  her 
about  it. 

One  evening  Sir  Charles  invited  her  to  walk  over  a portion 
of  the  estate  with  him,  and  unfolded  to  her  his  plans  for  beau- 
tifying it,  and  of  improving  the  condition  and  comfort  of  his 
tenantry. 

She  strove  to  listen  attentively,  and  appear  interested  in  it  all^ 
but  it  was  hard  work,  and  although  she  was  exceedingly  kind 
and  gracious  to  all  whom  she  met,  and  won  for  herself  high 
encomiums  for  her  sweetness  among  his  people,  yet  her  heart 


THAT  VOICE! 


438 

was  not  in  k,  and  she  was  immensely  relieved  when  they 
turned  their  steps  homeward. 

On  their  way  they  had  to  pass  the  villa  before  described. 

Isabel  had  never  been  that  way  before,  and  did  not  know  of 
its  existence,  and  was  quite  surprised  at  the  sight  of  the  modern 
dwelling,  where  everything  else  was  so  ancient. 

Just  before  reaching  it,  Sir  Charles  had  called  her  attention 
to  a lovely  view,  which  could  be  seen  from  the  hill  which  they 
had  just  climbed,  and  they  stopped  to  look  down  into  the  val- 
ley, through  which  a small  stream  went  winding  and  doubling 
in  the  slanting  sunlight,  like  a thread  of  gol^raveled  from  some 
royal  garment. 

Beyond,  they  could  see  the  bright  February  sun  just  drop- 
ping to  rest,  and  fine,  pale  bars  of  gold  lined  all  the  western 
sky,  while  over  them  hung  a misty  canopy  of  crimson  vapors, 
“that  seemed  only  just  a vail  'twixt  us  and  the  great  unknown 
regions  beyond, ''  Sir  Charles  said,  enthusiastically. 

They  stood  silent  for  several  minutes  enjoying  it,  when  sud- 
denly a few  rich  chords,  struck  upon  a fine-toned  piano,  saluted 
their  ears,  and  then  a voice  of  ravishing  sweetness  and  power 
burst  forth  into  joyous  song. 

Isabel  started  at  the  sound  as  if  a wasp  had  stung  her. 

“Who  is  that?''  she  demanded,  her  face  flushing  with  a sud- 
den thought  and  fear. 

“It  comes  from  yonder  villa.  Did  it  startle  you?"  asked  Sir 
Charles,  regarding  her  disturbed  manner  with  some  surprise. 

“A  little — it  was  so  quiet  before." 

“I  think  it  very  fine,"  he  replied,  stopping  to  listen  again  to 
the  clear,  beatiful  tones. 


THAT  VOICE! 


239 


'‘Who  lives  there?''  Isabel  asked,  an  anxious  expression  on 
her  face. 

“Lady  Ruxley,  an  aged  aunt  of  my  mothers." 

“Indeed!  I thought  she  resided  with  you,"  she  said,  won- 
dering why  a lady  of  such  high  degree  should  be  living  in  what 
appeared  to  her  such  limited  quarters. 

She  had  heard  of  Lady  Ruxley  before,  and  knew  that  it  was 
from  her  Sir  Charles  was  to  inherit  a large  amount  of  his 
property. 

She  had  never  met  her,  although  she  was  quite  curious  about 
her,  having  heard  much  about  her  peculiarities. 

“Lady  Ruxley  always  makes  it  her  home  with  us  while  we 
are  in  town,  but  when  we  come  to  Vallingham  Hall  she  pre- 
fers to  be  by  herself,  and  a few  years  since  she  had  this  villa 
built,  so  as  to  escape  the  gayety  and  confusion  which  always 
reign  there,"  Sir  Charles  explained. 

“Does  she  live  alone?"  Isabel  queried,  with  a thoughtful 
look. 

“She  has  never  had  any  one  but  her  servants,  until  within 
the  past  few  years  she  has  had  a companion  to  read  to  and 
amuse  her.  She  is  quite  old, " 

“Ah,  then  it  must  be  her  companion  who  is  singing  now," 
and  she  leaned  eagerly  forward  to  listen  again.  “Who  is  she?” 
she  asked,  somewhat  sharply,  when  after  a moment  the  sweet 
singer  suddenly  ceased. 

“I  really  do  not  remember  the  name — some  unfortunate  in- 
dividual, I believe,  who  met  with  an  accident,  enlisted  Aunt 
Ruxley's  sympathies,  and  she  insisted  upon  having  her  as  a com^ 
panion.  I have  never  seen  her.  Indeed,"  he  added,  smiling, 


240 


THAT  VOICE  r 


'"my  time  has  been  so  fully  occupied  in  another  direction  late- 
ly that  I have  not  paid  much  attention  to  other  people's  affairs/' 
and  Sir  Charles  bestowed  a fond  look  upon  his  betrothed,  which 
called  the  bright  color  to  her  cheeks,  and  the  smile  to  her  lipg 
again. 

She  asked  no  more  questions,  and  they  remained  a few  mo- 
ments longer  gazing  into  the  valley ; then,  as  the  sun  sank  out 
of  sight,  and  the  air  began  to  grow  keener,  they  turned  theii 
faces  homeward. 

As  they  passed  the  villa  they  caught  a glimpse  of  an  old 
woman  bent  nearly  double  with  age,  hobbling  into  the  housQ 
from  the  vine-covered  porch. 

She  was  leaning  upon  the  arm  of  a slender,  graceful  figure, 
who  seemed  to  be  clad  in  deep  mourning,  the  sight  of  which 
made  Isabel  Coolidge’s  heart  bound  again  with  a sudden  fear, 
and  she  bent  forward  for  a better  view. 

She  could  not  distinguish  the  person  clearly,  for  the  shadow 
of  the  vines  about  the  door  miide  it  impossible,  but  a nameless 
dread  of  something,  she  knew  not  what,  pursued  her  the  entire 
evening,  which  neither  the  gay  company  at  the  Hall  nor  her 
Jover's  fondest  words  could  make  her  forget 


CmtJEN\  i\\\JE  WME  TO  EOOSr/^ 


241 


CHAPTER  XKIl. 

'‘chickens  come  h,)me  to  &oost!" 

The  next  day  cards  were  received  at  Vjillingham  Hall  for  the 
family  and  all  guests,  soliciting  their  presence  at  a grand  state 
dinner,  to  be  given  by  his  lordship,  the  Earl  of  Dunforth,  at 
his  country  residence  at  East  Mailing,  about  five  miles  from  the 
west  village. 

A great  deal  of  excitement  prevailed  in  anticip.ation  of  this 
event,  for  all  recognized  the  honor  conferred  by  this  itivitation, 
as  the  earl  occupied  a high  position  in  the  world,  and  owned 
almost  the  whole  township  of  East  Mailing,  where  Dunforth 
Castle  was  situated. 

‘‘What  shall  I wear,  mamma.?”  Isabel  asked,  when  ^hey 
were  talking  over  the  event  in  their  own  room. 

"That  light  blue  velvet,  with  the  pipings  of  white  satin,  and 
tiae  stomacher  of  pearls,  which  came  from  Worth's  last  we^k, 
will  be  the  most  suitable,  I think,”  returned  Mrs.  Coolidge,  re- 
4ectivcly. 

"That  is  the  one  I had  in  mind.  It  will  be  veiy  becoming 
tud  with  those  coral  ornaments,  and  a few  flowers,  it  will  be  a 
lovely  costume,”  assented  the  dutiful  daughter. 

"I  want  you  to  look  uncommonly  well,  liKibel,  (ot  I heard 
to-day  that  any  one  who  is  received  by  the  Earl  df  Dunforth 


242 


^^CHICKENS  COME  HOME  TO  ROOST!*' 


needs  no  better  voucher  in  the  first  circles  of  London.  Be^ 
sides,  he  is  a relative  of  the  family,  and  it  will  be  wise  for  you 
to  secure  their  favor.  By  the  way,  has  Sir  Charles  asked  you  to 
name  the  day  yet  V 

‘‘No,  and  IVe  played  my  very  prettiest  to  him  this  week, 
hoping  he  would.  Tve  visited  all  those  dirty  cottages  and 
hovels,  and  helped  him  plan  a hundred  disagreeable  things  for 
suffering  humanity  around  us;  but,  apparently,  he  is  so  bound 
up  in  the  woes  of  others  that  he  cannot  stop  to  consider  things 
of  such  minor  importance  as  his  own  happiness,''  replied  Isa- 
bel, with  bitter  scorn,  and  with  an  ugly  frown  upon  her  brow. 

“You  must  have  patience,  my  dear.  A great  deal  has  been 
accomplished  in  his  proposing  to  you,  and  in  your  acknowl- 
edged engagement." 

Patience  I I feel  as  if  I should  go  wild,  at  times,  with  the 
constant  restraint  which  I put  upon  myself. f 

“I  know ; you  are  behaving  beautifully,"  said  Mrs.  Coolidge, 
soothingly,  who  lived  in  constant  fear  lest  there  should  be  an 
outbreak.  “Lady  Randal,"  she  went  on,  “thinks  you  are 
just  about  perfect ; and  even  the  servants  are  all  enthusiastic  in 
your  praise," 

“If  only  the  prize  was  secure,"  muttered  Isabel,  moodily. 

^ “Only  go  on  a little  longer  as  you  have  begun  and  it  will 
be,  I am  sure,"  purred  her  mother. 

“Won  t there  be  a revulsion  of  feeling,  though,  when  the 
knot  is  tied,  and  Bell  is  my  lady,  without  any  fear  of  any  one 
else  stepping  into  her  shoes  ?"  laughed  Viola,  viciously. 

“I  only  hope  I shall  be  present  at  the  unmasking ; won’t  it 
be  fan,  Vi  ?"  sneered  Alma. 


^'CmCKENS  COME  HOME  TO  EOOST! 


243 


'‘Yes,  it  is  the  finest  bit  of  comedy  I have  ever  seen  played,"' 
returned  her  sister,  with  a tantalizing  giggle. 

“Hold  your  tongues,  you  saucy  jades  cried  Isabel,  angrily. 

“I  can  imagine  now  the  expression  of  dismay  which  will 
appear  upon  the  serene  face  of  Sir  Charles,  when  he  discovers 
the  pretty  little  game  which  his  ‘perfect"  lady-love  has  been 
playing  upon  him,""  retorted  Alma,  totally  ignoring  her  sister"s 
coarse  command, 

“Ha!  ha!  It  will  be  fun  indeed,  though  I shall  feel  no 
end  sorry  for  him,  for  he"s  just  gay,  and  I should  like  him  for 
a brother-in-law,""  said  Viola,  with  a feeling  of  self-reproach. 
“ And  won't  the  servants,  who  are  so  ‘enthusiastic"  now,  have 
to  catch  it,  when  the  ‘constant  restraint"  is  removed Yes, 
indeed,  poor  things  1 they'll  wish  the  courting  had  lasted  for- 
ever. But  I say,  Al,  it"s  lucky  for  her  that  Miss  Douglas  isn"t 
here,  for  if  she  was,  she"d  lose  Sir  Charles  the  same  as  she  did 
Mr.  Dredmond."" 

Viola  had  always  taken  a sort  of  savage  delight  in  tormenting 
Isabel  with  Adrian  s evident  admiration  for  Brownie. 

Isabel,  already  wrought  up  to  the  last  point  of  endurance 
before  these  chatter-boxes  began,  now  gave  way  completely. 

Mrs.  Coolidge,  deeply  offended  by  their  tormenting  conver- 
sation, said,  sternly: 

“Viola!  Alma!  leave  the  room  instantly,  and  be  very  care- 
ful hereafter  that  I do  not  hear  you  speak  in  this  way  before 
your  sister,  or  you  march  back  to  London  and  go  under  mas- 
ters at  once."" 

The  young  girls  olseyed,  somewhat  subdued  by  this  threat 


244 


^^CHICKENS  COME  HOME  TO  EOOSTI 


for  they  thought  it  delightful  at  Vallingham  Hall,  and  t©  b« 
banished  to  dreary  London  to  study  would  be  dreadful. 

The  day  of  the  dinner-party  arrived. 

A half  hour  before  the  Vallingham  company  were  to  start; 
Lady  Randal  knocked  at  Isabel's  door. 

‘‘Excuse  me,  dear,”  she  said,  “but  I wanted  to  see  how  you 
look  before  we  start.  I am  particularly  anxious  that  Lord  and 
Lady  Dunforth  should  be  pleased  with  you.  You  know  he  is 
a relative  of  the  family,”  she  concluded,  with  an  accent  of 
pride. 

“I  heard  something  to  that  effect,”  responded  Isabel ; “but 
how  is  he  connected 

“His  lordship  and  I are  own  cousins,”  explained  Lady  Ran- 
dal, while  her  face  clouded  fora  moment,  as  if  from  some  pain-  i 
fill  thought.  I 

Then  suddenly  changing  the  subject,  she  exclaimed  : 

“But  I need  not  have  been  anxious  about  your  appearance, 
for  you  are  just  lovely.  You  have  exquisite  taste,  my  love,  and 
I shall  feel  quite  proud  when  you  are  my  daughter.  This  blue  ; 
velvet  is  charming,  and  your  hair  is  very  becomingly  arranged,  ' 
while  that  stomacher  of  pearls  is  superb.  But” — and  she 

started  suddenly,  while  her  face  grew  crimson — “but  where  did 
you  get  those  coral  ornaments  V and  her  eyes  were  fixed  in  utter 
astonishment,  and  with  something  of  terror  in  them,  upon  the 
elegant  coral  and  diamond  cross,  and  butterfly  hair  ornament, 
which  Isabel  had  just  fastened  in  her  hair,  and  clasped  about 
her  neck. 

Isabel  colored  violently  at  the  question. 

Could  she  never  wear  those  things  without  some  one's  re^ 


^^CHICKENS  COME  HOME  TO  ROOST! 


245 


marking  them  particularly,  and  continually  reminding  her  that 
they  were  not  her  own  ? 

Lady  Randal  marked  her  confusion,  and  feeling  it  might 
kave  appeared  a rude  question,  hastened  to  add  : 

‘^Pardon  me,  but  they  are  so  like  some  that  I once  saw  a 
long  time  ago,  that  I could  not  help  exclaiming  at  the  mo- 
ment. " 

The  frown  deepened  upon  my  lady's  brow,  as  if  more  un- 
pleasant memories  had  stirred  unbidden  in  her  heart. 

‘‘Ah!"  said  Isabel,  regaining  her  self-possession,  and  striv- 
ing to  speak  indilferently ; “I  did  not  suppose  there  was  an- 
other set  like  them  in  the  world — they  were  made  to  order, " and 
the  lie  slipped  off  her  tongue  without  a quaver. 

“It  is  a singular  coincidence,  surely,"  murmured  Lady  Ran- 
dal, absently.  “Did  you  ever  know " she  began  again 

then  suddenly  checking  herself,  she  added:  “But  of  coursi 
you  did  not,  for  she  must  be  over  sixty  if  she  is  living  now.  It 
is  strange,  though.  I could  have  sworn  they  are  the  same." 

“What  were  you  saying  .5^"  asked  Isabel,  who  had  not  dis- 
tinctly understood  what  she  said  last. 

“Never  mind,  dear ; but  a lady  whom  I used  to  know  had 
some  ornaments  very  like  these.  Have  you  nothing  else  which 
will  do  to  go  with  this  costume.?" 

She  seemed  to  dislike  the  idea  of  her  wearing  them. 

“Oh,  yes;  I have  plenty  of  others,  but  these  look  best  with 
this  light  blue — they  give  a dash  of  color  which  it  seems  to 
need,  and  I prefer  them. " 

“Well,  never  mind  ; you  e^look  very  nice,  and,"  she  added, 
partly  t©  herself,  “perhaps  he  will  not  notice." 


246  CHICKENS  COME  HOME  TO  ROOST 

Isabel  created  quite  a sensation  upon  entering  the  great 
drawing-room  at  Dunforth,  for  there  were  many  people  present 
whom  she  had  never  met  before,  and  all  were  quite  anxious  to 
•ce  the  bride  Sir  Charles  had  chosen. 

His  lordship  was  very  gracious  to  her,  and  seemed  desirous 
to  atone  for  his  rudeness  on  the  night  of  Lady  Peasewells  draw- 
ing-room, though  Isabel  noticed  that  a spasm  of  pain  con- 
tracted his  face  when  his  eye  first  fell  upon  her  as  she  was  pre- 
^nted. 

He  introduced  her  to  Lady  Dunforth,  who  completely  sur- 
prised her  by  turning  to  a gentleman  at  her  side,  and  saying  : 

‘‘Miss  Coolidge,  allow  me  to  present  my  grandson,  Mr. 
Dredmond. '' 

She  looked  up  astonished,  and  the  color  flamed  into  her 
cheeks  at  his  cold  salutation  and  the  well-remembered  scornful 
curl  of  his  lips,  as  his  critical  eye  took  in  every  item  of  her  cos- 
tume from  head  to  foot. 

He,  too,  had  recognized  those  lovely  corals  with  their  dia- 
mond garnishings,  and  he  longed  to  wrest  them  from  her  hair 
and  bosom,  and  denounce  her  as  the  false-hearted  woman  he 
knew  she  was. 

He,  then,  was  the  grandson  of  the  Earl  of  Dunforth ! 

Isabel  had  known  all  along  that  he  was  heir  to  an  earldom, 
but  supposing  it  to  be  a nobleman  by  the  name  of  Dredmond 
she  had  never  made  any  inquiries  about  the  matter. 

A feeling  of  chagrin  came  over  her  that  she  had  not  played 
her  cards  differently,  for  she  knew  the  Dunforth  wealth  far  ex- 
ceeded that  of  the  Randals. 


*^CmCKENS  COME  HOME  TO  ROOST! 


247 


A sense  of  fear,  too,  arose  in  her  heait  lest  he  should  strive 
to  influence  Sir  Charles  against  her. 

Thus  do  the  ignoble  always  gauge  the  character  of  othqxs  bj 
their  own. 

Lady  Randal  had  told  her  that  she  and  Lord  Dunforth  were 
cousins,  consequently  Sir  Charles  and  Adrian  were  connected, 
und  might  he  not  tell  him  what  he  knew.? 

Later  in  the  evening  she  was  introduced  to  Lady  Ruxley, 
whose  acquaintance  she  had  long  desired  to  make,  and  whose 
fevor  she  was  most  anxious  to  secure. 

The  old  lady  had  arrived  at  the  castle  that  morning  T)y  espe- 
cial invitation,  and  was  to  remain  a few  days  to  visit  I.a(ty  Dun- 
forth, who  was  a favorite  with  her. 

She  was  a very  peculiar  body,  this  old  lad}^  of  eighty,  with 
her  wrinkled,  withered  face,  her  scant,  wiry,  gray  hair,  her  rest- 
less black  eyes,  keen  and  sharp  as  a brier.  She  was  bent  nearly 
double,  and  walked  with  a cane,  and  when  she  tried  to  talk  to 
or  look  at  anybody  she  twisted  her  neck  and  shoulders  into  all 
manner  of  contortions.  She  was  little  as  well  as  old — she  could 
not  have  weighed  over  ninety  pounds — and  in  her  straight,  old- 
fe,shioned  black  satin  gown  she  made  Isabel  think  of  some  witch 
©r  sprite  of  evil. 

She  felt  anything  but  comfortable  beneath  those  keen,  bright 
eyes,  which  seemed  to  read  her  through  and  through  at  a glance, 
and  her  blunt  way  of  asking  questions  disconcerted  her  not  a 
little. 

She  felt  that  she  was  being  inspected  from  head  to  foot,  and 
that  when  at  length  she  was  curtly  dismissed  with  a wave  of 
that  shriveled  hand,  the  old  woman  could  have  told  to  an  inch 


i4$  '^CHICKENS  COME  HOME  TO  ROOSTf" 

how  many  yards  of  velvet  were  in  her  dress,  the  exact  amount 
of  satin  it  took  for  the  piping  and  of  lace  for  trimming,  the 
number  of  her  glove  and  boot,  and  even  of  the  number  of 
hair-pins  it  took  to  build  her  coiffure. 

“I  am  glad  she  lives  by  herself,”  was  her  inward  comment, 
as  Sir  Charles  led  her  away.  “I  should  never  feel  easy  a mo- 
ment to  have  a withered  old  crone  like  that,  with  her  piercing 
eyes,  prying  into  my  affairs.  ” 

“ False  as  fair ; false  as  fair!”  and  “chickens  always  come 
home  to  roost ! ’ muttered  the  “old  crone,”  as  she  watched  the 
handsome  couple  move  away. 

“What  were  you  saying,  aunt.?”  asked  Lady  Randal,  sharply; 

She  had  been  standing  near,  and  saw  the  distrustful  expres- 
sion on  her  face,  and  heard  the  muttered  tones. 

“I  said  ‘chickens  always  come  home  to  roost,’”  she  snap- 
ped in  reply. 

“What  do  you  mean  by  it?  I don’t  understand  you.” 

“I  mean  that  you  are  going  to  get  your  pay  through  her  foi 
some  of  your  own  evil  deeds  in  the  past,”  she  answered,  poinL 
ing  her  shaking  finger  at  Isabel. 

Don  t be  a fool,  aunt,  ” Lady  Randal  said,  sharply,  yet 
growing  a shade  paler  than  usual.  “What  have  I done  that  is 
so  very  wicked  ?” 

“Ah,  ha  I your  memory  doesn’t  serve  you  as  well  as  mio^ 
for  all  I am  in  my  dotage,”  and  the  old  woman  gave  a cracked, 
spiteful  laugh. 

Then,  with  a malicious  leer,  and  crooking  her  skinny  neck 
way  round  so  that  she  could  get  a clearer  vkw  of  her  ladyship's 
6c»,  she  added : 


*<chick:ens  come  home  to 


24^ 


*'I  haven't  forgotten  how,  when  you  were  yonder  girl's  age, 
j^ou  played  a game  upon  his  lordship  in  my  own  house  which 
nearly  broke  his  heart,  and  without  accomplishing  your  pur- 
pose, too ; and  now  I say  you're  going  to  get  your  pay  for  it. " 

''"That  was  years  and  years  ago,  and  Tm  sure  I don't  see  what 
it  can  have  to  do  with  Sir  Charles  or  my  ‘Affairs  to-day.  Don't 
you  like  Miss  Coolidge } I think  her  very  striking  in  appear" 
ance. " 

Lady  Randal  was  evidently  very  much  disturbed  by  her  aunt's 
insinuations,  and  now  endeavored  to  change  the  conversation. 

‘‘She  has  a stately  presence,  truly;  but  mark  my  words, 
Helen  Capel,  if  you  live  long  enough,  you  will  find  that  she 
can  plot  as  cunningly  as  you  did  when  you  admitted  Count  de 
Lussan  to  my  parlors  to  ruin  the  happiness  of  an  innocent  and 
beautiful  girl." 

“Pshaw!  what  has  put  those  absurd  fancies  and  memories 
into  your  head  to-night and  Lady  Randal  tried  to  laugh, 
though  she  shuddered  at  the  same  time. 

“Laugh  away,  my  lady,  while  you  can,"  snapped  the  old 
woman,  viciously,  “but  you'll  change  your  tune  before  long. 
I never  quite  forgave  you  for  that  night's  work,  Helen ; it  was 
the  first  time  such  a man  ever  disgraced  my  house,  to  say  noth- 
ing about  her  coming  to  such  grief  there.  But,  ah  I that  was 
more  than  forty  years  ago.  I wonder  whatever  became  of  her  I 
I am  sorry  for  Charles,  though — he  is  a noble  fellow,  and 
ought  to  have  a good  wife,"  and  Lady  Ruxley  heaved  a sigh  of 
regret. 

“Thai  y<3u  don't  approve  of  his  ehoiee,  aunt;  I'«  sonj 


2^0 


^^CHICKENS  COME  HOME  TO  ROOST! 


She  is  certainly  fine-looking,  and  then  she  belongs  to  a vei^ 
healthy  family/' 

‘‘That's  it;  that's  it,  you  were  never  satisfied  with  what  you 
had,"  was  the  impatient  interruption.  “You  always  want  to 
hear  the  jingle  of  gold.  I'd  rather  the  boy  would  marry  a girl 
like  my  companion,  without  a penny,  than  forty  such  stately, 
false-hearted  dames,  with  a million  apiece."  . 

“You  continue  to  like  the  girl  as  well  as  ever,  then,"  said 
Lady  Randal,  glad  to  change  the  subject. 

“Like  her!  there  isn't  her  equal  here  to-night,  for  all  you 
were  so  sure  I'd  be  taken  in.  I tell  you,  Helen,  these  eyes  of 
mine  are  good  yet,  if  they  have  been  well  used  for  over  eighty 
years. " 

“Where  is  she  to-night 

“Upstairs,  reading;  she  would  not  come  down,,  though  I 
tried  hard  enough  to  make  her.  But  go  along  to  your  friends, 
an  old  woman  like  me  is  not  worth  minding,  besides,  I'm  go- 
ing to  bed  presently. " 

She  waved  her  hand  the  same  as  she  had  to  Isabel,  and  Lady 
Randal  moved  away,  feeling  anxious  and  miserable,  despite  her 
assumed  indifference. 

Unpleasant  memories  had  been  rudely  aroused  to-night,  and 
the  sting  of  conscience,  mingled  with  remorse,  was  severe. 

“Whatever  could  have  made  her  rake  up  those  old  times 
she  muttered,  uneasily,  as  she  glanced  at  her  son.  who  was 
hovering  about  Isabel  like  a moth  about  a candle  “Can  it 
be  that  she  also  noticed  those  jewels  ? I wonder,  ^oo,  what- 
ever became  of  the  girl.  ^ was  rather  hard  on  her,  ^ 


^^CHICKENS  COME  HOME  TO  RoOSTT 


251 


especially  as  I did  not  succeed  in  becoming  Lady  Dunforth 
myself,  though  I always  owed  her  a grudge  for  her  haughty  airs. 
It  is  lucky  for  me,  however,  that  he  never  discovered  the  part  I 
played  in  that  tragedy — he  never  would  have  forgiven  it.  I 
wonder  what  Ldid  with  that  note — destroyed  it,  I suppose.  Oh, 
dear  I what  a memory  Aunt  Ruxley  has,  it  is  as  keen  as  her 
tongue,  and  she  has  made  me  exceedingly  uncomfortable;  but 
I would  not  offend  her  for  anything  on  Charles'  account.  I do 
hope  he  will  be  happy,  and  that  he  has  chosen  wisely ; he  is 
too  good  to  be  deceived — he  is  like  his  father,  poor  man  ! Ah, 
me  / how  many  men  have  been  taken  in  by  the  girls  they  have 
married ; however,  it  is  too  late  to  be  helped  now. " 

Such  were  Lady  Randal's  reflections  after  leaving  her  aunt. 

Doubtless  she  has  been  recognized  before  this  as  being  the 
girl  of  whom  Miss  Mehetabel  Douglas  had  told  Brownie  as 
having  been  the  cause  of  her  life-long  misery. 

Yes,  Lady  Randal  was  that  same  Helen  Capel.  Finding, 
after  she  had  accomplished  her  foul  purpose,  that  she  could  not 
console  her  cousin.  Lord  Dunforth,  for  his  loss,  she  turned  her 
charms  in  another  direction,  and  at  last  succeeded  in  winning 
a good  and  true  man.  Sir  Ralph  Randal,  for  a husband. 

She  had  not  lived  the  pleasantest  life  in  the  world  with  the 
baronet,  or  rather,  it  should  be  said,  that  he  had  discovered  his 
mistake  when  it  was  too  late. 

She  could  not  deceive  him  always,  and  after  the  irrevocable 
step  had  been  taken  he  found  that  instead  of  a true,  loving,  and 
domestic  wife,  he  had  been  entrapped  into  marrying  a vain, 
frivolous  girl,  who  cared  more  for  fashion  and  society  than  she 
did  for  her  family.  His  death  had  not  seemed  to  break  her 


2S2 


^^CmCKENS  COME  HOME  TO  ROOST  I 


heart,  for  after  the  year  of  mourning  expired,  she  returned  te 
society  with  as  much  zest  as  ever. 

But  when  her  eldest  son  was  taken  from  her  she  felt  the  blow 
[more  keenly,  and  it  seemed  to  change  her. 

Charles,  the  younger  son,  had  always  been  fhe  favorite,  and 
she  feared  lest  she  should  lose  him,  too,  and  from  that  time  she 
devoted  herself  to  him,  and  during  her  later  years  became 
apparently  the  self-sacrificing  and  loving  mother. 

All  her  hopes  now  centered  in  him,  and  she  bent  all  her 
energies  toward  carving  out  a brilliant  future  for  him.  And  yet 
there  were  times  when  she  seemed  so  troubled  and  melancholy 
that  for  days,  and  even  weeks,  she  would  be  unlike  herself,  and  : 
as  if  blooding  over  some  hidden  grief  or  sin. 

She  had  long  since  banished  the  memories  of  those  deeds  of  ' 
her  early  life. 

They  were  not  pleasant  to  recall. 

But  to-night  those  homely  old  proverbs,  '^Chickens  always  : 
come  home  to  roost,’'  You’ll  get  your  pay,”  as  uttered  by  ; 
Lady  Ruxley,  seemed  to  possess  a strange  significance,  and  \ 
sounded  like  uncanny  prophecies  in  her  ears. 

How  often  is  it  thus,  when  ‘‘coming  events  cast  their  sha4wf«  i 


1 


A LEAP  FOR  LIFE. 


25i 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A LEAP  FOR  LIFE. 

I 

Adrian  Dredmond's  identity  is  established  at  last.  He  was 
indeed  the  grandson  and  heir  of  Lord  Dunforth,  the  former 
lover  of  Miss  Mehetabel  Douglas. 

He  had  married,  as  she  told  Brownie,  five  years  after  the  ter- 
rible disappointment  which  had  well  nigh  ruined  both  their 
lives. 

His  wife  was  a sweet-tempered,  gentle  little  body,  and  she 
bved  him  with  her  whole  heart. 

He  liked  her  well  enough,  and  respected  her  thoroughly,  but 
the  one  love  of  his  life  had  been  that  proud,  fair-haired  girl  who 
had  broken  his  heart.  It  had  been  a deathless  love,  as  could 
easily  be  seen  by  his  rambling  talk  the  night  he  met  Isabel  at 
Lady  Peasewell's 

When  he  finally  married  he  had  done  so  to  please  his  father, 
and  in  order  to  perpetuate  the  name. 

But  another  disappointment  awaited  him,  for  only  a daugh-^ 
ter  blessed  their  union,  and  there  was  no  heir  to  take  the  title. 
At  the  age  of  sixteen  she  fell  in  love  with  a colonel  in  the 
English  army — a widower  nearly  twice  her  age. 

Her  father,  whose  life  had  been  such  a failure,  would  na^ 
doom  her  to  a like  fate,  and  so  consented  to  the  marriage,  aL 
though  he  did  not  fully  approve  of  it,  both  on  account  of  his 


254 


A LEAP  FOR  LIFE, 


daughter's  youth  and  the  profession  of  Colonel  Dredmond ; . 
since,  in  all  probability,  it  would  eventually  separate  him  from 
his  only  child. 

But  the  fair  young  girl-bride  only  lived  one  short  year,  and 
died  soon  after  the  birth  of  their  only  child — a fine  boy,  whom 
his  father  named  Adrian. 

Colonel  Dredmond  was  soon  after  ordered  into  active  service, 
and  was  killed  fighting  like  the  brave  man  he  was. 

Henceforth  Adrian  became  his  grandfather’s  sole  joy  and 
comfort,  and  he  lavished  upon  him  all  the  love  which  his 
bruised  heart  was  capable  of  feeling. 

The  boy  inherited  all  his  father  s bravery,  together  with  his 
grandfather’s  honor  and  nobility  of  character,  and  bade  fair  to 
make  the  declining  years  of  Lord  and  Lady  Dunforth  the  best 
and  happiest  of  their  lives.. 

Lady  Dunforth  worshiped  him,  and  never  refused  him  any' 
thing  which  she  could  possibly  grant  him.  She  was  intenselj 
aristocratic,  however,  with  all  her  gentleness,  and  very  punc- 
tilious regarding  forms,  and  it  was  therefore  quite  a source  of 
discomfort  to  her,  when,  as  Adrian  grew  older,  he  refused  to  be 
addressed  by  his  title. 

One  day,  when  he  was  about  fourteen.  Lady  Dunforth  told 
one  of  the  servants  in  his  presence  to  perform  some  service  for 
“ Lord  Adrian.” 

As  soon  as  the  man  left  the  room  he  looked  up  with  a very 
red  face,  and  burst  out  more  impetuously  than  courteously  : 

‘^Grandmother,  I want  you  to  hush  up  calling  me  lord.” 

“Why,  my  dear,  the  title  belongs  to  you,  for  you  will  in- 
herit everything  from  your  grandfather/'  she  said,  persuavsivelf. 


A LEAF  FOR  LIFE, 


255 


f 


don't  care;  I think  it  is  ridiculous  for  little  boys  and 
girls  to  be  my  lorded  and  my  ladyed,  and  I won't  h^ve  it.  No- 
body shall  be  my  lord  in  this  house  but  grandfather,  as  long  as 
he  lives,  which  I hope  will  be  till  he  is  a hundred.'' 

^^What  will  you  be  called  then,  dear 
Adrian,  while  I'm  a boy,  and  when  I'm  a man  I'll  be  Mr. 
Dredmond.  I think  it  is  all  folly  to  have  titles  anyway,  setting 
up  one  over  another,"  he  said,  with  a scornful  sniff. 

‘'You  are  very  democratic,  my  son,  and  this  will  be  quite  a 
new  departure,"  replied  Lady  Dunforth,  much  amused,  and 
yet  secretly  annoyed. 

“Well,  I mean  it,  anyhow;  I won't  have  the  servants  calling 
me  my  lord,  and  the  idea  of  being  my  lord  to  my  own  grand- 
mother, strikes  me  as  exceedingly  absurd. " 

The  young  nobleman  kept  his  word,  and  by  his  persistent 
rejection  of  the  title,  soon  became  “Master  Adrian"  to  the 
servants,  and  “ Young  Dredmond " to  his  friends  and  asso- 
ciates ; and  he  continued  to  retain  his  democratic  notions  as  he 
grew  to  manhood,  always  preferring  and  honoring  real  worth  to 
position. 

During  the  last  few  weeks  he  had  been  very  unhappy  and  de^ 
pressed. 

His  anxiety  regarding  Brownie,  in  whom  he  had  at  last  ac- 
knowledged he  had  more  than  an  ordinary  interest,  rendered 
him  gloomy  and  absent-minded. 

He  did  not  enjoy  company,  it  irritated  and  angered  him  to 
look  around  and  see  others  so  gay,  when,  perhaps,  the  one 
whom  he  now  knew  he  loved  more  than  his  own  life,  was  friend' 
less  and  may  be  suffering. 


A LEAF  FOR  LIFE, 


256 

He  had  come  d«wn  to  Dunforth  Castle  to  be  present  at  the 
dinner-party  to  please  his  grandmother,  but  he  told  her,  upon 
his  arrival,  that  he  must  return  to  London  upon  the  next  day, 
as  he  had  important  business  which  would  not  allow  of  his 
absence. 

That  business  was  his  constant  and  almost  hopeless  search 
for  Brownie  Douglas.  His  meeting  with  Isabel  to-night  made 
his  trouble  seem  more  bitter  than  ever,  and  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life  he  felt  as  if  he  almost  hated  a human  being. 

He  regretted  exceedingly  her  engagement  to  Sir  Charles,  for 
he  was  warmly  attached  to  the  young  man  ; but  he  felt  that  he 
was  powerless  to  save  him  from  what  he  feared  his  future  would 
be  with  such  a vain  and  selfish  girl  as  he  knew  Miss  Coolidge 
*0  be. 

As  soon  as  dinner  was  over,  feeling  weaiy  and  gloomy,  he 
lighted  a cigar,  and  went  out  by  himself  into  the  cool  night  air. 

He  wandered  absently  through  the  grounds,  thinking,  as  he 
always  did  when  alone,  of  only  one,  until  at  length  he  found 
himself  at  quite  a distance  from  the  castle. 

The  night  was  somewhat  overcast,  but  not  dark,  for  there  was 
a full  moon,  which  every  now  and  then  burst  out  gloriously 
from  behind  the  clouds,  and  he  could  distinguish  objects  quite 
plainly. 

About  a quarter  of  a mile  from  the  castle  the  ground  arose 
very  abruptly  for  a short  distance,  and  suddenly  terminated  in  a 
high  precipice,  which  shelved  out  over  a deep  and  swift-running 
river. 

This  was  accounted  a very  dangerous  spot  by  people  in  that 
vicinity,  for  the  continual  dropping  and  caving  away  of  the 


A LEAP  FOR  UFE. 


257 


rocks  and  earth  had  left  the  hill  above  but  a mere  shell  or  shelf, 
hanging  out  over  the  river  a hundred  feet  below,  and  which,  it 
was  predicted,  was  liable  to  be  precipitated  into  it  at  any  mo- 
ment, since  an  ugly  seam  had  appeared  about  twenty  feet  from 
the  brink,  and  the  spot  was  shunned  by  every  one,  although  it 
used  to  be  much  frequented  on  account  of  the  lovely  view  which 
it  commanded. 

To  any  one  unacquainted  with  the  path  which  led  up  this  as- 
cent, it  was  like  tempting  Providence  to  try  to  reach  the  top, 
for  there  were  pitfalls  on  every  side,  and  the  path  was  winding 
and  uneven. 

But  Adrian  knew  every  step  of  the  ground,  for  during  his 
boyhood  he  had  explored  every  inch  many  a time,  and  he  clam- 
bered on  now,  still  thinking  gloomily  of  his  own  affairs. 

He  had  accomplished  about  two-thirds  of  the  distance,  and 
he  could  hear  the  restless  surging  of  the  river,  as  its  waters 
rushed  over  its  rocky  bed,  when  the  moon  came  sailing  out 
from  behind  a white-edged  cloud,  and  flooded  the  whole  land- 
scape with  its  yellow  light. 

He  looked  up  and  swept  his  eye  over  the  hill.  He  started, 
and  an  exclamation  of  horror  broke  from  him  as  he  did  so. 

He  had  seen  some  one  standing  on  the  very  edge  of  that 
dangerous  precipice,  and  gazing  down  into  the  valley  beyond. 

It  was  a woman,  and  the  breeze  made  her  dark,  flowing  gan 
ments  sweep  out  behind  her  in  graceful  folds,  and  now  sh€i 
lifted  her  head,  and  he  could  faintly  distinguish  the  outline  of 
her  face  as  the  moonlight  fell  upon  it. 

He  dare  not  call  out  to  her  for  fear  the  sound  of  his  voice 
would  startle  her,  and  she  would  be  precipitated  into  the  boik 


258 


A LEAP  FOR  UFE. 


ing  river  below.  For  a moment  the  strength  all  went  out  oi* 
his  body,  as  he  thought  he  should  never  be  able  to  reach  and 
save  her — that  his  extra  weight  upon  that  frail  shelf  must  bring 
death  to  them  both. 

Then,  without  a second  thought  of  self’  he  sprang  forward 
with  swift,  noiseless  steps. 

Surely,  whoever  she  was,  she  could  not  realize  the  horn  ole 
danger  of  that  moment,  and  the  young  man's  heart  fairly  ceased 
its  beating,  as  with  a few  rapid  strides  he  was  at  her  side,  and 
laying  a firm  hand  upon  her  arm,  he  said,  in  tones  thrilling 
with  anxiety  ; 

Madam,  do  you  know  that  you  are  tempting  death?  This 
portion  of  the  hill  is  liable  to  cave  at  any  moment.” 

Then,  without  releasing  his  strong  hold  of  her,  he  drew  her 
quickly  back  from  the  spot,  farther  and  yet  farther  from  the 
Bound  of  those  roaring  waters,  which  seemed  hungering  for 
their  prey,  until  they  reached  the  fatal  seam,  which  Adrian  saw 
was  now  wider  than  ever  before. 

Just  then  a sudden  shock  seemed  to  strike  him,  then  a rat- 
tling, rolling,  horrible  sound  reached  his  ears,  and  a sensation 
of  swaying  and  dizziness  crept  over  him. 

He  knew  what  it  meant — death  ! 

Only  one  thought  was  in  his  heart  now,  and  it  rent  his  soul 
with  its  silent  agony. 

“Brownie,  my  Brownie,  I shall  never  see  you  again !” 

The  next  instant — he  never  knew  how  he  did  it — but  ha 
caught  the  form  at  his  side  in  his  arms,  and  sprang  forward,  all 
his  strength  and  energies  gathered  into  that  leap  for  life. 

Not  an  instant  too  soon,  however,  for  the  whole  space  whicL 


A LEAP  FOR  LIFE, 


259 

they  had  just  traversed  was  swept  from  their  sight  as  if  by  magic, 
and  went  crashing  and  tumbling  down  into  the  fearful  depths 
below,  leaving  that  noble  man  and  trembling  woman  faint, 
dizzy,  sick,  with  the  thought  of  the  horrible  death  which  they 
had  so  narrowly  escaped,  and  clinging  wildly  to  each  other  in 
horrified  silence. 

At  last,  with  a long,  shuddering  breath,  Adrian  said,  as  he 
reverently  lifted  his  hat  and  bowed  his  head  : 

‘‘I  do  give  hearty  thanks  that  I was  led  hither  at  this  mo- 
ment.'' 

‘‘Amen  !"  was  faintly  breathed  at  his  side. 

‘'Now,  who  are  you  that  have  dared  to  risk  your  life  like  this?" 
he  asked,  thinking  it  must  be  some  new  servant  at  the  castle, 
or  perhaps  some  peasant  lately  moved  into  the  village. 

There  was  no  answer,  but  the  form  beside  him  shook  so  from 
excitement  and  fear  that,  he  saw,  she  could  hardly  stand. 

Still  keeping  his  hold  upon  her  to  support  her,  he  led  her 
still  farther  away  from  the  yawning  chasm,  saying  {gently  : 

“Sit  down  upon  this  rock  under  this  tree  for  a few  moments 
ttntil  you  regain  your  strength. " 

She  obeyed,  and  he  bent  down  to  look  into  her  face. 

“Are  you  faint?  Shall  I go  for  some  water?"  he  asked,  then 
suddenly  dropping  upon  his  knees  before  her,  he  exclaimed  : 
“Good  God  ! is  it  you  that  I have  saved  from  that  ? Oh  ! if  I 
had  not  come  !"  burst  from  him  in  a startled,  almost  anguished 
cry. 

His  voice  shook  like  an  old  man's  with  horror,  his  ^e,  as 
the  moonlight  struck  it,  was  ashen  in  its  hue,  and  for  the  mo- 
ment he  was  more  completely  unnerved  than  the  girl  whom  he 


26o 


A LEAP  FOR  LLFE, 


had  just  rescued  from  such  imminent  danger.  Her  bands  laj 
white  and  limp  in  her  lap. 

He  gathered  them  up  in  his  strong  clasp,  and  pressed  hii 
lips  again  and  again  upon  them,  while  his  breast  heaved  witl 
the  fierce,  frightened  throbbings  of  his  heart. 

Ah  ! only  Heaven  knew  the  horrible  yet  rapturous  sensatiom 
of  that  moment,  when  he  discovered  that  she  whom  he  hac 
just  saved  from  a terrible  death,  was  none  other  than  Brownie 
Douglas  whom  he  had  sought  so  long  sorrowing  ! 

Yes,  it  is  I whom  you  have  saved,  Mr.  Dredmond;  but  fo: 
you  I should  now  be  lying  crushed,  and  bruised,  and  dead  a 
the  bottom  of  yonder  stream,’'  was  the  low  reply,  in  those  swee 
tones,  which  he  would  have  recognized  at  the  ends  of  the  earth,. 

little  thought  to  find  you  here.  I learned  something  O; 
your  trouble,  and  I have  searched  everywhere  for  you  in  Lon 
don,  Miss  Douglas,  for  the  last  two  months,  and  it  was  with  re 
luctance  that  I relinquished  my  quest  long  enough  to  obey  ^ 
summons  hither,”  be  said,  when  he  began  to  recover  himsel' 
a little. 

He  did  not  stop  to  think  that  she  might  deem  it  singular  tha 
he,  almost  a stranger,  should  be  searching  so  earnestly  for  her. 

‘'How  strange,”  he  went  on,  ‘'that  I should  have  com( 
hither  to  save  you  from  even  worse  than  what  I feared  migh 
have  happened  to  you?  It  was  dreadful  for  you  to  be  there^ 
and  my  brain  grows  dizzy  with  the  thought  of  what  must  hav( 
been  if  I had  not  come ! Did  you  know  of  that  perilous  shelfj 
Has  no  one  told  you?” 

“No,  Mr.  Dredmond,  I only  came  to  Dunforth  Castle  to 
day.  I was  sad  and  lonely  to-night,  and  being  freed  from  mj 


A LEAP  FOR  LIFE, 


261 


duties,  I came  out  for  a stroll  in  the  moonlight.  I saw  this 
hill,  and  heard  the  dashing  of  the  stream,  and  thinking  a de- 
lightful view  might  be  obtained  from  the  top,  I clambered  up. 
It  was  like  being  suddenly  awakened  from  a beautiful  dream, 
when  you  seized  and  bore  me  from  the  place. 

Adrian  shuddered. 

‘‘I  expected  that  both  of  us  would  be  dashed  in  pieces  when 
I saw  the  earth  giving  way,  and  heard  that  dreadful  noise,”  she 
added,  in  trembling  tones. 

Better  that,  than  that  I should  not  have  come  at  all,”  he 
returned,  passionately. 

His  tone  seemed  to  recall  her  suddenly  to  herself,  and  she 
tried  to  release  her  hands,  which  he  still  held  tightly  clasped  in 
his. 

He  was  almost  unconscious  that  he  still  held  them,  but  at 
the  effort  she  made  he  looked  up  at  her  and  saw  that  her  face 
had  grown  crimson  with  blushes,  while  her  eyes  dropped  shyly 
beneath  his  gaze. 

"‘I  beg  your  pardon,”  he  said,  releasing  them  at  once,  and 
rising  to  his  feet.  "'You  will  think  me  presuming,  but  my 
gratitude  that  you  were  safe  made  me  forget  myself.  Did  I un- 
derstand you  that  you  are  staying  at  the  castle he  asked, 
changing  the  subject  to  relieve  his  embarrassment. 

‘‘I  am  there  for  a few  days.” 

^Hndeed  ! and  so  am  I,”  he  replied,  much  pleased,  and  for- 
getting that  he  had  told  his  grandmother  he  could  not  possibly 
remain  longer  than  over  one  night.  ''  You  are  cold,”  he 
added,  as  he  saw  her  shiver;  '"shall  I take  you  back  now  to 
the  castle  ?” 


262 


A LEAP  FOR  LIFE. 


Thank  you  ; yes/'  and  Brownie  arose,  but  overcome  again 
with  weakness,  she  staggered  like  a drunken  person,  and  nearly 
fell 

'^Ah!  you  have  not  recovered  from  that  fearful  shock,'* 
Adrian  said,  as  he  involuntarily  put  his  arm  around  her 
steady  her. 

think  my  nerves  are  not  quite  settled  yet,"  she  returned^ 
looking  very  white,  and  vainly  trying  to  pin  her  shawl  with  hei 
shaking  fingers. 

With  infinite  gentleness  he  made  her  lean  against  him,  while 
he  wrapped  the  shawl  close  about  her  graceful  figure,  and 
pinned  it  securely  at  the  throat 

Then,  with  a tenderness  which  thrilled  her  through  and 
through,  yet  with  a courtly  deference  which  made  him  seem 
more  grand  and  noble  than  ever  before,  he  supported  her  falter- 
ing steps  down  the  steep  path,  and  led  her  back  to  the  castle. 

You  have  not  yet  told  me,  nor  will  I ask  you  to-night,  how 
you  happened  to  leave  London  so  suddenly.  Wilbur  Coolidge 
told  me  that  I should  find  you  at  the  Washington,”  he  said,  as 
he  drew  near  the  door. 

‘‘Yes,  I did  tell  him  that  I should  be  there  for  a few  days, 
but  an  accident  prevented  my  ever  going  to  the  hotel  at  all.  I 
am  now  with  Lady  Ruxley,  at  her  cottage  near  Vallingham 
Hall.” 

“Zounds  ! She  has  got  right  back  into  that  Coolidge  nest 
again,  poor  thing  ! I wonder  if  she  knows  it,  or  has  seen  them 
yet?”  was  Adrians  inward  comment;  then  he  said,  aloud: 
“ If  you  remain  here  a few  days  I shall  probably  see  you  again. 

Then,  as  he  clasped  her  hand,  he  continued,  with  a smile : 


A LEAP  FOR  LIFE, 


*'Now,  good-night;  and,  Miss  Douglas,  do  not  go  wander- 
ing off  by  yourself  again  in  the  night  to  places  you  know  noth- 
ing of. 

j Again  she  thrilled  at  his  touch,  and  the  fire  leaped  into  her 
checks  at  his  words. 

will  not,”  she  promised,  with  a little  answering  smile, 
though  he  saw  the  tears  were  dropping  from  her  eyes,  as  she 
added:  ^'But,  Mr.  Dredmond,  I have  not  been  able  to  find 
words  adequate  to  express  my  feelings  for  what  you  have  done 
for  me  to-night ; but  surely  you  will  not  deem  me  ungrateful.” 

‘‘No,  no,  dar ” He  nearly  said  it  in  spite  of  himself 

but  quickly  checking  the  word,  he  exclaimed  : “Great  God  ! 
how  it  unmans  me  even  now  to  think  of  it ; but  I pray  you 
go  to  rest,  and  try  to  forget  it  if  you  can.  ” 

He  led  her  up  f|ie  steps  to  a side  door,  where  she  could  enter 
unseen,  let  her  in,  then  wandered  away  by  himself  again  into 
the  park,  his  soul  stirred  to  its  very  depths  by  the  events  of  the 
last  half  hour. 

He  had  found  her — his  own,  his  darling,  for  thus  she  now 
seemed  to  him.  He  had  saved  her  again  from  danger,  and  he 
longed  for  the  right  to  protect  her  all  through  life. 

It  galled  him  exceedingly  to  know  that  she  was  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  Coolidges,  who  he  knew  would  not  hesitate  to  make  it 
very  unpleasant  for  her,  and  he  resolved,  if  need  be,  to  use  his 
power  to  shield  her  from  their  insults. 

^ He  could  at  least  threaten  to  reveal  Isabel's  hypocrisy  to  Sir 
Charles,  if  she  became  abusive,  although  his  noble  nature  re- 
coiled from  pursuing  any  such  course  with  a lady  ( ?). 


TAKEN  BY  STORM. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

I 

TAKEN  BY  STORM. 

Adrian  had  been  obliged  to  exert  the  sternest  self-control  in 
erder  to  keep  back  the  wild  words  which  were  burning  upon  his 
lips  for  utterance  after  saving  Brownie. 

He  loved  her,  he  knew  he  loved  her,  and  he  longed  to  pour 
out  the  fullness  of  his  heart  to  her. 

But  how  could  he  presume  to  do  so,  when  she  was  compara- 
tively a stranger  to  him .? 

Only  twice  before  had  he  met  her,  and  he  reasoned  that  it 
?,ould  not  be  possible  that  she  had  any  thought  of  love  for 
him,  although  he  had  worshiped  her  from  afar  for  the  last  six 
months. 

He  felt  that  he  must  tell  her  ere  long.  He  had  almost  be- 
trayed it  to-night,  and  the  hot  blood  surged  into  his  face  as  he 
thought  of  it,  and  wondered  how  she  regarded  him. 

Would  she  not  feel  that  he  was  presuming  upon  the  service 
which  he  had  just  rendered  her  if  he  should  confess  it } 

And  yet,  in  his  heart,  he  exulted  over  the  event,  even  while 
he  trembled  and  grew  faint  as  he  realized  how  near  he  had  come 
to  losing  her  forever. 

The  danger  and  the  escape  from  it  had  brought  them  nearer 
to  each  other  than  ever  before.  She  had  trusted  him,  leaned 


TAKEN  BY  STORM.  265 

ttpon  him,  and  even  allowed  his  arm  to  clasp  her  unshrinking- 
ly when  she  could  not  stand  alone. 

And  now  she  was  under  the  same  roof  with  him,  and  would 
remain  several  days,  she  said. 

It  seemed  too  much  happiness,  after  all  his  discouragements 
and  disappointments  in  seeking  her. 

Of  course,  he  would  not  return  to  London  now;  of  what 
use  would  it  be,  when  the  object  of  his  search  there  was  found  ? 

No,  he  would  stay  here  and  win  her  if  he  could;  and  when 
she  was  his  wife,  how  proud  he  would  be  to  introduce  her  to 
Isabel  Coolidge  and  her  mother  as  the  future  Lady  of  Dun- 
forth ! 

And  Brownie ! 

Who  shall  describe  the  tumult  that  was  in  her  heart,  as  she 
nought  Lady  Ruxley's  apartments  ? 

She  could  not  misinterpret  Adrian's  manner  toward  her. 
Had  not  he  almost  called  her  darling?  Had  not  his  every  tone 
and  look  been  fraught  with  that  magnetic  influence  which  could 
not  be  mistaken  ? 

Did  not  his  horror,  when  he  had  found  it  was  who  had 
been  in  such  peril,  bespeak  a deeper  interest  than  that  of  a mere 
friend  ? 

Ah,  yes ! and  her  hands  burned  with  his  passionate  kisses 
even  now. 

How  precious — how  doubly  precious  the  boon  of  life  would 
seem  to  her  hereafter,  since  it  had  been  bestowed  upon  her  by 
him ! 

She  entered  Lady  Ruxley's  room  to  bid  her  ‘'good-night,'^ 
and  see  if  the  maid  had  done  everything  to  make  her  comfort 


TAKEN  BY  STORM. 


iCC 

able;  and  the  old  woman  marveled  at  the  wondrous  beauty 
which  had  suddenly  crept  into  her  heretofore  sad  companion's 

&ce. 

The  soft  cheeks  were  flushed  with  a lovely  color,  her  eyes 
sparkled  with  the  light  of  a new  dawn  in  her  life,  while  her 
scarlet  lips  were  just  parted  in  a tremulous,  happy  smile,  which 
she  had  never  seen  there  before. 

‘‘You  have  been  out,''  she  said  bluntly,  though  kindly,  and 
eying  her  keenly. 

She  never  spoke  to  her  gentle  companion  sharply,  as  she  did 
to  the  other  members  of  the  ftoily. 

“Yes,  your  ladyship;  it  was  so  lovely  that  I could  not  stay 
within,  and  I knew  you  would  not  need  me. " 

“No;  the  air  has  done  you  good,  and  there  is  much  of 
beauty  around  Dunforth  Castle.  Go  as  often  as  you  like,  if 
you  will  only  bring  me  back  such  a bright  face  every  time. " 

And  again  those  sharp  eyes  searched  the  beautiful  coun- 
tenance. 

Brownie  colored  vividly  as  she  turned  away,  and  a little  bird 
singing  merrily  in  her  heart,  and 

‘‘As  sweet  and  musical 
As  bright  Apollo’s  lute  !” 

The  dinner-p^rty  had  not  been  very  satisfactory  either  to  Lady 
Randal  or  Isabel. 

Both  felt  exceedingly  uncomfortable  all  the  evening. 

The  one  on  account  of  the  wrongs  done  in  the  past,  memo- 
ries of  which  had  been  so  suddenly  and  rudely  aroused,  the 
other,  conscious  of  a wicked  sin  persisted  in,  and  ever  foarfiil 


TAKEN  BY  STORM.  267 

l«gt  it  should  become  known  to  others  and  ruin  her  prospects 
in  life. 

Isabel  heaved  a sigh  of  thankfulness  when  at  length  she  was 
safe  in  her  own  room  again,  the  beautiful  blue  velvet  dress  laid 
aside,  and  the  stolen  jewels  shut  out  of  sight. 

**Whata  horrid  creature  that  old  woman,  Lady  Ruxlej,  is,^ 
she  said,  in  tones  of  disgust,  to  her  mother. 

‘‘Don’t  for  the  world  breathe  it  outside  these  walls,  or  it  wih 
be  the  worse  for  you,  Isabel.  I can  see  that  she  distrusts  you 
now,  and  if  you  offend  her,  she  will  cut  Sir  Charles  off  with  3 
shilling,”  Mrs.  Coolidge  returned,  in  alarm. 

“Never  fear,  mamma.  I’ll  play  the  game  out  to  the  end  now, 

But  were  you  not  surprised  to  discover  that  Sir  Charles  and  Mr. 

« 

Dredmond  are  relatives.?^” 

“Yes,  indeed,  and  not  very  well  pleased,  either.  I had  no 
idea  that  Lord  Dunforth  was  his  giandfather.  It  is  evident  thal 
he  knows  more  about  that  miserable  affair  with  Miss  Douglas 
than  is  at  all  desirable.  I am  afraid  Wilbur  let  it  out  to  him,  h^ 
was  so  angry,  and  they  have  been  so  intimate  since.  I hope, 
though,  he  will  hold  his  tongue,  and  not  tell  Sir  Charles.  I’d 
give  a good  deal  to  know  where  the  girl  is  now,”  said  Mrs. 
Coolidge,  somewhat  anxiously. 

* * Hi  * Hi  3k  45 

“I  will  know  my  fate  this  day,”  said  Adrian,  the  next  moi’n* 
ing,  as  he  arose  from  his  almost  sleepless  couch  and  descended 
to  the  breakfest  parlor. 

For  the  past  six  months  Brownie  had  been  so  continually  in 
his  thoughts  that  she  had  grown  to  seem  almost  a part  of  him-^ 
self,  and  now  it  seemed  to  him  as  if,  in  the  great  horror  of  tha 


2^8 


TAKEN  BY  STORM, 


night  previous,  when  they  had  stood  so  near  to  death,  and  to^ 
gether  had  caught  a glimpse,  so  to  speak,  of  the  darkness  and 
gloom  of  mysterious  eternity,  it  seemed,  I say,  as  if  they  had 
tacitly  acknowledged  and  felt  that  they  belonged  to  each  other. 

‘'How  now,''  said  his  grandfather,  as  he  entered  the  room  ; 
'’^mustyow  be  off  to-day?  I was  hoping  that  you  would  spend 
several  weeks  with  us." 

"I'm  sure  I cannot  see  what  there  is  so  important  to  call  you 
back  to  London,"  put  in  Lady  Dunforth,  reproachfully. 

"Do  you  take  it  so  much  to  heart?  Well,  then,  suppose  I 
compromise  the  matter,  and  say  that  I will  remain  a few  days," 
Adrian  replied,  laughingly,  though  he  colored  a conscious  crim- 
son as  he  altered  his  plans.  * 

His  lordship  gave  him  a searching  glance,  as  if  he  did  not 
exactly  understand  this  change ; he  had  been  so  positive  last 
night  about  returning. 

Lady  Dunforth,  however,  was  delighted,  and  other  guests  en- 
tering at  that  moment,  she  imparted  the  good  news,  and  then 
all  sat  down  to  breakfast. 

Adrian  was  on  the  watch  all  day  for  Brownie,  but  late  hours 
did  not  agree  with  Lady  Ruxley,  and  she  did  not  rise  until  very 
late.  Then  being  in  rather  a more  exacting  mood  than  usual, 
she  kept  her  companion  in  constant  attendance  upon  her  all 
day. 

It  was  not  until  late  in  the  afternoon  that  Brownie  was  free  to 
take  a stroll  by  herself ; then,  her  ladyship  having  fallen  into  a 
dose,  she  donned  her  hat  and  shawl  and  stole  out 

She  had  a -^traiige  desire  to  visit  again  the  spot  where  she  had 


TAJCElSr  BY  STORM.  169 

#0  nearly  lost  her  life,  and  view  by  daylight  the  havoc  which 
had  been  wrought. 

She  felt  that  the  sweetest,  and  yet  the  most  dreadful  associa- 
tions, would  ever  be  connected  with  the  place. 

Walking  rapidly,  she  soon  gained  the  lop  of  the  hill,  and, 
turning  from  the  narrow  path,  she  ere  long  stood  upon  the 
precipice  where  the  great  shelf  of  earth  had  crumbled  away. 

She  could  see  where  the  old  crack  had  been,  and  where  the 
earth  had  newly  broken  away ; and  as  she  looked  down  into  the 
abyss  below,  where  the  trees,  rocks,  and  earth  were  fast  being 
swallowed  up  and  borne  away  by  the  fierce  action  of  the  waters, 
cold  chills  crept  over  her  whole  frame,  while  she  silently  lifted 
her  heart  in  thankfulness  to  Him  who  had  sent  that  brave  de- 
liverer to  her  rescue. 

‘^Strange  that  he  should  be  here  ! Strange  that  he,  should 
have  saved  me  a second  time,'"  she  murmured  to  herself,  and 
the  rosy  color  flashed  over  her  beautiful  face,  as  she  recalled 
that  scene  upon  the  boat  in  connection  with  the  events  of  the 
night  previous. 

She  could  not  forget  the  clinging  clasp  of  his  arms ; she  could 
not  forget  his  upturned,  anxious  face,  as  he  dropped  upon  his 
knees,  nor  the  burning,  passionate  kisses  which  he  had  pressed 
upon  her  hands ; the  horror  in  his  voice  when  he  realized  that 
it  was  she  who  had  been  in  such  danger ; the  intense  thankful- 
ness which  quivered  in  his  tones  at  her  deliverance,  and  the 
pathos  with  which  he  had  said  it  would  have  been  better  for 
them  both  to  have  perished  beneath  that  falling  mass  than  that 
he  had  not  come  to  save  her. 

He  bad  told  her,  too,  of  his  long  and  anxious  search  for  her 


TAKEN  BY  STORM. 


%^0 

in  London ; and  now  she  lived  over  again,  every  moment,  and 
recalled  it  all,  with  that  beautiful  color  deepening  upon  her 
cheek,  and  those  lovely  eyes  glowing  with  a deep  tenderness 
and  joy. 

She  knew  it  could  only  be  accounted  for  in  one  way;  kelovM 
her!  Her  whole  being  thrilled  with  the  thought 

A strange,  rapturous  joy  surged  through  her  heart,  for  she 
knew,  despite  the  difference  in  their  position — for  she  had  heard 
that  he  would  one  day  inherit  a title,  although  she  had  no  idea 
that  he  was  connected  with  Lord  Dunforth — that  it  was  an  hon- 
orable and  deathless  k)ve  which  he  bore  her. 

She  would  as  soon  have  doubted  her  own  purity  as  his  man- . 
iness  and  truth.  And  she.?  Did  she  love  him  in  return .? 

Before  she  had  time  to  analyze  her  own  feelings,  she  became 
conscious  of  a presence  near  her,  though  she  had  heard  no  step, 
and  looking  up,  she  beheld  th:  object  of  her  thoughts  at  her 
side,  regarding  her  with  grave,  earnest  eyes. 

‘‘Are  you  fascinated  by  the  horror  of  this  place.  Miss  Doug- 
las.?^ Adrian  asked,  holding  out  his  hand  to  her. 

“I  came  to  see  by  daylight  from  what  I had  been  saved,  "she 
replied,  coloring  vividly  as  she  laid  her  own  within  it. 

“It  is  even  more  dreadful  than  it  seemed  in  the  night, ^ he 
gaid,  shuddering,  as  he  looked  below  and  took  in  the  dizzy 
depth,  while  his  clasp  grew  stronger  over  the  little  liand,  as  if 
he  feared  to  let  it  go. 

“This  place,"'  he  resumed  after  a moment,  “has  been  re- 
garded with  dread  for  years.  I can  remember  when  I was  a 
little  boy  of  seeing  the  smallest  crack  in  the  earth  here,  and  I 
was  told  never  to  step  near  it.  Every  year,  as  the  trees  and 


TAJ^EN^  BY  STORM, 


271 


shrubs  growing  upon  it  have  become  larger,  th3  seam  has 
widened  and  deepened,  until  the  crash  has  been  expected  for  a 
long  time.  I suppose  our  extra  weight  upon  it  last  night  was' 
all  that  was  needed  to  complete  the  dreadful  work.  I am  glad, 
though,  that  it  is  over  with,  for  everybody  has  been  in  suspense 
about  it  for  so  long ; but — but  do  you  know,  darling,  that  if  it 
had  buried  you  beneath  its  cruel  weight  that  the  world  would 
Vave  been  a blank  to  me  to-day?’* 

He  paused  a moment,  just  glancing  at  her,  his  face  growing 
f-^e  and  anxious  with  his  emotion ; then  he  went  on,  rapidly : 

‘‘You  knew  now,  dear,  what  I want  to  say  to  you.  I love 
/ou — I love  you,  my  darling,  and  I want  you  for  my  own,  my 
cherished  wife. 

“I  fear  you  will  think  me  presuming,**  he  hastened  to  say, 
as  he  saw  the  rich  color  flask  over  cheek,  neck,  and  even  to  the 
lips  of  her  delicate  fingers,  “for  you  have  only  met  me  twG  or 
three  times ; but  you  cannot  know  how,  for  the  last  six  months, 
!j(  have  sought  you  continually,  this  love  growing  in  my  heart 
all  the  while. 

“Yes,”  he  added,  as  she  gave  a slight  start  of  surprise,  “I 
met  you  first  last  September,  though  you  were  not  conscious  of 
the  fact,  and  I meant  then  to  make  your  acquaintance.  But 
your  aunt  died,  and  you  went  away  somewhere,  and  I,  deeply 
disappointed,  lost  sight  of  you  entirely.  You  can  judge  of  my 
surprise  and  pleasure  when  you  came  aboard  the  steamer  at 
New  York,  although  you  cannot  judge  of  my  feelings  when 
you  stumbled,  and  I caught  and  held  you,  just  a moment,  in 
my  arms.  I had  been  thinking  of  you  continually;  youi 
bright  face  dwelt  in  ray  heart  like^  picture,  but  at  that  moment 


TAKEN  BY  STORM, 


272 

I became  conscious  that  you,  and  you  alone,  could  make  lift 
worth  the  living  to  me. 

*'1  resolved  then  that  I would  know  you  before  the  voyage 
was  finished ; but  you  were  sick  all  the  time,  and  I only  caught 
3*:limpses  of  you  when  they  bore  you^from  your  state-room  to 
the  coach.  Then  I saw  you  in  London  at  the  opera,  and  the 
long-desired  introduction  took  place.  I resolved  to  cultivate 
the  acquaintance,  and  called  at  Mr.  Coolidge's  the  day  you — 
you  went  away. 

Adrian  hesitated  as  he  said  this;  he  could  not  forget  the 
dreadful  things  Isabel  had  told  him,  although  he  knew  they 
were  every  word  untrue. 

And  she,  in  the  midst  of  her  confusion  at  his  avowal,  coul(^ 
not  repress  a smile  at  the  thought  of  /ns  calling  upon  /ler  at  the 
Coolidge’s,  and  wondered  how  the  fact  had  been  received  by'thc 
haughty  Isabel. 

'‘They  told  me  you  had  gone,"'  he  resumed,  “though  they 
could  not  or  would  not  tell  me  where.  Afterward  young  Cool- 
idge  said  that  I would  find  you  at  the  Washington.  I haunted 
the  hotel  for  a week,  and  I have  searched  the  city  over  and  over 
for  you  since.  But,  dearest,''  he  said,  clasping  the  little  hand 
closer,  “I  have  found  you  now,  and  can  you  give  me  the  one 
precious  boon  I crave — your  priceless  love?" 

He  bent  eagerly  toward  her,  his  noble,  handsome  face  flushed 
and  hopeful,  for  her  attitude  was  one  of  sweet  and  modest  con- 
fusion, and  she  had  not  even  sought  to  withdraw  the  hand  he 
was  holding. 

“Will  you.  Brownie?"  he  pleaded,  softly. 

She  flashed  one  quick  look  at  him  from  her  beautiful  ey®s 


TAKEN  BY  STORM, 


^7S 


as  he  called  her  that,  and  he  saw  in  their  clear  depths  all  that 
he  wished  or  hoped. 

She  loved  him  ! Her  soul  answered  to  his,  and  clasping  her 
close  to  his  heart,  he  murmured  : 

‘‘You  are  mine,  darling — I have  won  you  by  the  mighty 
power  of  my  silent,  magnetic  love,  and  you  will  be  my  wife.?"' 

She  lifted  her  head,  which  had  been  resting  against  his  bosom, 
quickly  at  these  last  words,  and  said,  with  drooping  lashes  and 
quivering  lips; 

“Mr.  Dredmond,  you  have  taken  me  by  storm."' 

“YeSj  and  I mean  to  hold  you,"  he  interrupted,  gayly,  ai 
he  noticed  her  excessive  embarrassment;  then  added,  more 
earnestly:  “Brownie,  do  you^  can  you  love  me.?" 

She  smiled  faintly  at  his  first  words,  then  with  modest  frank^ 
ness  gave  him  the  honest  answer  which  she  knew  was  his  due. 

“If  I am  truthful,  I must  confess  that  my  heart  does  respond 
to  yours;  but  knowing  so  little  of  you,  I should  have  deemed 
it  unmaidenly  to  have  confessed  it,  even  to  myself." 

“But  you  do  confess  it  now — ^you  do  love  me?"  he  interrupted 
again,  eagerly,  and  impatient  for  a naore  definite  reply. 

“Yes,"  she  whispered. 

“And you  will  be  my  wife?"  he  asked,  as  his  lips  met  hers. 

“Yes,  God  willing,"  in  t®nes  of  solemn  sweetness. 

“Darling,  God  has  given  you  to  me;  I acknowledge  the 
fiver  as  I take  the  gift.  From  that  first  moment  when  I met 
you  in  the  Art  Gallery  in  Philadelphia  until  now  this  mighty 
love  has  been  growing  within  me. " 

“In  the  Art  Gallery?"  questioned  Brownie,  with  a puzzled 
look, 


274 


TAJCEI^  BY  STORM. 


‘'Yes,  when  your  friend,  Miss  Huntington,  met  with  such  a 
s^es  of  accidents. " 

“Oh,  was  that  you  with  Mr.  Gordon.?''  she  demanded,  hei 
face  dimpling  at  the  remembrance,  and  she  eagerly  searched  his 
fece.  “I  remember  now;  it  has  haunted  me  like  a strange 
dream  ever  since  I met  you  on  the  boat,  where  I had  seen  you 
before.  Now  it  all  comes  back  to  me,"  she  said. 

“I  found  something  that  day  which  belongs  to  you,  but  not 
in  season  to  return  it  to  you  then,"  Adrian  said. 

He  took  from  his  pocket  as  he  spoke  the  elegant  sleeve-but' 
ton,  which  he  had  always  carried  with  him  since. 

Brownie  exclaimed,  joyously,  as  she  saw  it : 

“Oh,  how  glad  I am  to  get  it — I never  thought  to  see  it 
again  ; and  you  have  had  it  all  this  time.?" 

“Yes,  darling — my  Brownie — how  I have  longed  to  say  it — 
and  I vowed  then  that  I would  only  yield  it  up  into  your  own 
little  hands. " 

“It  belonged  to  auntie  once,"  she  explained,  “and  there  are 
associations  connected  with  it  which  make  it  very  dear  to  me." 

“And  now  come  to  yon(Jer  rock  and  sit  down.  I want  to 
know  all  that  has  happened  to  you  since  you  left  the  Coolidges ; 
there  has  been  some  mystery  connected  with  it  which  I could 
never  understand,"  Adrian  said,  leading  her  to  a sheltered  seat, 
and  sitting  down  beside  her. 

And  Brownie,  feeling  that  she  was  now  no  longer  alone,  but 
that  instead  she  had  a host  in  him  to  battle  for  her,  poured 
forth  all  the  story  of  her  wrongs  about  the  jewels,  and  the 
abuse  and  insult  which  she  had  received  from  Isabel  and  her 
mother. 

That  story,  however,  we  must  leave  for  another  chapter. 


RE  TROSPECTJV&. 


«7S 


CHAPTER  XXV  ^ 

IffiTROSPECTIVK. 

The  reader  has  doubtless  surmised  before  this,  that  it  was 
Brownie's  voice  which  had  so  startled  Isabel  Coolidge,  and  that 
it  was  she  whom  she  had  seen  assisting  Lady  Ruxley  into  the 
house,  as  she  and  her  lover  passed  the  villa  on  their  way  back 
to  Vallingham  Hall. 

Isabel  had  asked  Lady  Randal,  on  her  return,  what  the  name 
of  Lady  Ruxley 's  companion  was;  but  upon  being  told  that  it 
was  Mabel  Dundas,  her  fears  were  quieted,  and  she  thought  no 
more  of  the  matter  at  that  time. 

We  must  now  go  back  to  that  day  when  Brownie,  in  her  de^ 
spair  and  desolation,  bade  farewell  to  Wilbur  and  drove  awaj 
from  the  Coolidge  mansion. 

It  was  her  intention  to  go  directly  to  the  Washington,  and 
there  await,  for  a few  days  at  least,  whatever  destiny  mighJ 
send  her. 

But  this  plan  was  overruled  in  a way  she  had  not  thought  of 

The  man  who  drove  the  cab  was  more  than  half  intoxicated; 
although  he  had  managed  to  conceal  the  fact  from  Wilbur, 
who,  had  he  not  been  so  bound  up  in  his  own  misery,  and 
filled  with  indignation  against  his  mother,  would  have  noticed 
it  immediately. 


76 


ME  TROSFECTIVE. 


As  it  was,  the  poor  girl  rode  away,  all  unconscious  of  ap- 
proaching danger,  and  of  the  suffering  and  fright  through  which 
•he  was  about  to  pass. 

The  man  drove  very  carelessly,  and  upon  suddenly  and  heed- 
lessly turning  a corner,  he  ran  into  a heavily-loaded  team  before 
he  could  check  the  speed  of  his  horses.  More  by  hit  than  by 
any  good  wit,  he  turned  them  quickly  aside,  and  the  cab  was 
almost  miraculously  disengaged  from  the  other  vehicle ; but  the 
animals  had  now  become  unmanageable  from  excessive  fright. 
They  gave  a sudden  leap  into  the  air,  then  bounded  forward  in 
a mad  and  furious  race. 

The  cabby  was  thrown  from  his  seat  into  the  gutter,  and  in 
turning  another  corner,  the  carriage  was  upset.  Now,  wholly 
beside  themselves,  the  horses  kicked  themselves  free  from  the 
debris,  and  plunged  out  of  sight,  leaving  poor  Brownie  in  a 
state  of  insensibility,  buried  beneath  the  ruins. 

The  accident  had  happened  in  a quiet,  aristocratic  street  of 
the  city;  consequently  there  were  few  to  witness  it,  and  the 
young  girl  escaped  the  curious  gaze  of  the  crowd  which  always 
gather  about  any  such  event  in  the  more  frequented  portions. 

The  massive  door  of  a grand  house  soon  swung  open,  and 
an  old  lady  of  over  eighty,  very  peculiar  in  appearance  (for  she 
was  bent  nearly  double,  and  walked  with  a cane),  appeared, 
attended  by  the  gray- haired  butler  of  the  house. 

‘"Go  and  bring  her  in  instantly,  James,”  she  was  saying, 
when  another  woman  came  forward  and  seemed  to  protest 
against  the  order  in  a very  emphatic  manner. 

tell  you  it's  inhuman,  Helen,  to  let  hw  lie  there,  to  be 


J^ETROSPECTIVE. 


277 


carried  off  to  some  hospital  by  the  police,  ” cried  the  old  wo- 
man, in  shrill,  almost  angry  tones. 

‘‘But,  aunt,  the  house  is  full  now;  and  if  she  is  badly 
injured  it  will  not  do  to  move  her  from  here  after  she  has  been 
once  attended  to.” 

“I  don’t  care  if  there  are  five  hundred  in  the  house;  that 
girl  shall  not  be  left  there  to  be  carried  off  by  the  police,  I tell 
you.  James,  go  bring  her  in  this  instant ! Get  some  one  to 
help  you,  and  take  her  up  to  my  bedroom.” 

“But,  aunt ” 

“Hold  your  tongue,  Helen.  You  were  always  hard-hearted 
as  adamant.  Go  along,  I say  !”  And  she  flourished  her  cane 
about  the  grave  butler’s  ears  in  a way  to  make  him  move  more 
quickly  to  execute  her  orders  than  was  his  wont. 

He  beckoned  to  two  under-servants,  and  together  they  pro- 
ceeded to  the  overturned  carriage,  where  Brownie  could  be  seen 
lying  prone  against  the  window,  her  white  face  upturned  and 
motionless. 

They  extricated  her,  and  bore  her  into  an  upper  room,  where, 
in  the  presence  of  the  brusque  and  energetic  old  woman,  she 
was  kindly  ministered  unto,  while  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the 
family  physician. 

It  was  a long  time  before  she  came  to  herself,  and  then  only 
to  relapse  into  repeated  fiiintings,  which  alarmed  them  greatly. 

The  physician,  after  a thorough  examination,  could  discover 
no  serious  injuries,  excepting  that  her  left  arm  was  broken  below 
the  elbow.  She  had  also  several  severe  bruises,  and  the  physi- 
cian feared  there  might  be  some  internal  injuries  which  causeO 
the  fiiintiiigs. 


278 


RE  TR  OSPECTIVE. 


He  set  the  bones,  and  did  what  he  could  for  her,  and  then 
waited  for  time  to  do  the  rest 

For  three  days  she  continued  very  ill,  being  feverish  and 
somewhat  delirious,  but  after  that  she  began  to  mend  rapidly, 
and  the  doctor  concluded  that  there  were  no  internal  injuries, 
and  that  the  fainting  had  been  caused  by  the  fright  and  general 
shock  to  the  system,  and  said  if  inflammation  did  not  set  into 
her  arm  she  would  now  do  nicely. 

At  the  end  of  a week  she  was  able  to  sit  up,  and  began  to 
wonder  where  she  was,  and  what  would  happen  to  her  next. 

Evidently  she  could  not  have  fallen*  into  better  hands,  for  she 
iras  surrounded  by  every  luxury  imaginable,  and  upon  ques- 
tioning the  servant  who  attended  her,  she  was  told  that  she  was 
in  the  house  of  Lady  Randal. 

She  wondered  why  her  ladyship  did  not  come  in  to  see  her, 
and  then  sighed  to  think  that  she  was  only  a poor,  friendless 
waif,  who  had  been  picked  out  of  the  streets  and  ministered 
unto  for  charity's  sake. 

But  one  day,  upon  awaking  from  a long  and  refreshing  sleep, 
she  found  the  queerest-looking  old  lady  bending  over  her  and 
scrutinizing  her  closely.  She  was  nearly  bent  double,  and  held 
a cane  in  her  hand.  She  uttered  a low  grunt  as  Brownie  opened 
her  large  brown  eyes,  giving  her  a surprised  look,  and  then 
asked,  in  a sharp,  though  not  unkindly,  tone  : 

Who  are  you  ? What's  your  name 

My  name  is  Douglas,"  replied  Brownie,  quietly,  her  pale 
fece  flushing  slightly  at  the  blunt  question. 

‘'Eh?  What?  Oh  I Dundas,"  returned  the  deformed  crea- 
ture, twisting  her  neck  to  get  a better  view  of  the  delicate  face. 


RE  TROSPECTIVE. 


279 


Sbe  was  evidently  hard  of  hearing,  and  did  not  catch  the  name 
correctly  ; but  she  continued  : 

‘‘And  what’s  your  other  name?” 

‘ ‘ Mehetabel,  ” the  young  girl  said,  with  her  usual  quiet  smile 
whenever  she  pronounced  the  obnoxious  cognomen. 

“Ah!  Mabel,”  replied  the  old  woman,  only  seeing  the  mo- 
tion of  her  lips,  and  catching  the  last  syllables.  “Mabel  Dun- 
das  1 That  is  a good-sounding  name.  Now,  how  old  are  you?” 

Brownie  was  upon  the  point  of  correcting  the  mistake  regard- 
ing her  name,  when  she  checked  herself. 

‘"“What  matters  it,’'  she  breathed,  with  a sad  sigh,  “whether 
I am  Mehetabel  Douglas  or  Mabel  Dundas  ? It  wdll  be  all  the 
same  to  her,  and  perhaps  help  to  shield  me  from  my  enemies.” 

“I  am  nearly  nineteen,”  she  replied  to  the  question. 

“What?  Tm  not  always  so  hard  of  hearing,  but  I’ve  got  a 
«old  to-day.  How  old  did  you  say  you  are?” 

“Nearly  nineteen,”  Brownie  repeated,  speaking  louder. 

“Do  you  suffer  much?” 

“Not  very  much.” 

‘ ‘ Where  are  your  friends 

“I  have  none,”  and  the  sad,  sweet  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

“Humph  ! that’s  bad  for  a pretty  face  like  yours.  What  d« 
you  do  for  a living?” 

“Teach.” 

“ Teach  what 

“Almost  anything,  excepting  the  higher  classics.” 

“Ah  I indeed  1 and  only  nineteen  I Perhaps  you  are  one  of 
those  reduced  gentlewomen,  who  go  out  governessing,  and 


28o 


RE  TROSPECTIVE. 


pretend  to  know  everything T snapped  the  old  woman,  with  a 
sneer. 

Probably  she  had  been  taken  in  sometime  during  her  life  by 
some  such  person  as  she  described,  which  accounted  for  her 
scorn. 

‘‘  No,  madam  ; I pretend  to  nothing.  I have  a good  educa- 
tion, therefore  teach  for  a living,  and  am  only  a poor  girl 
without  home  or  friends.'' 

Brownie's  cheeks  were  very  red  now,  but  her  dignity  would 
have  done  credit  to  the  highest  lady  in  the  land. 

The  strange  woman  chuckled  audibly,  nodded  her  head  two 
or  three  times,  as  if  much  amused,  and  then  went  on  with  he/ 
catechising  : 

“ Do  you  read  French.?" 

“Yes,  madam,"  replied  the  young  girl,  inwardly  resenting 
the  woman's  brusque  manner,  yet  feeling  bound  tp  reverciic* 
her  gray  head. 

“And  German  ?" 

“Yes,  madam." 

“Can  you  play  the  piano,  and  sing?" 

“I  can." 

“Have  you  an  engagement  now?" 

“No,  madam." 

“Are  you  desirous  of  obtaining  a situation?" 

“lam." 

“Can  you  produce  the  ‘best  of  references?'" 

This  question  was  also  accompanied  by  a sneer. 

“ I cannot,  madam.  I have  only  my  qualifications  and  ay 


RB  TROSPECTIVE. 


281 


own  word  to  recommend  me/'  Brownie  answered,  with  a good 
deal  of  spirit. 

Again  the  old  woman  chuckled,  and  distorted  her  neck  to 
look  at  her,  in  a way  which  made  Brownie  fear  she  would  dis' 
Jocate  it 

Where  were  you  last.?"  she  demanded. 

Evidently  the  old  lady  possessed  authority  in  the  house,  or 
she  would  not  have  assumed  this  manner  toward  her.  She  was 
Very  richly  dressed,  too,  and  despite  her  deformity,  had  the 
appearance  of  nobility  about  her. 

Brownie  tried  to  hide  her  indignation  at  being  so  persistently 
questioned,  for  she  had  been  kindly  treated,  having  received 
every  care  and  kindness,  although  as  yet  she  was  unconscious 
how  much  of  it  was  due  her  present  tormentor. 

‘‘I  taught  in  an  American  family,"  she  at  last  replied. 

‘'Ah  ! Came  over  with  them,  didn’t  you  .?  And  you  are  an 
American,  too,  aren't  you .?"  she  asked,  with  a searching  look. 

Brownie  nodded  her  head  wearily ; she  was  becoming  very 
nervous. 

“What  was  the  name  of  the  family,  and  what  did  they  dis- 
miss you  for  ?" 

This  was  going  a little  too  far,  and  assuming  too  much. 

“Pardon  me,  madam,"  Brownie  answered,  with  proud 
dignity.  “I  do  not  understand  your  motive  in  interrogating 
me  thus,  and  prefer  net  to  reply  to  any  more  questions.  I will 
simply  say,  however,  that  I was  not  dismissed  from  my  position, 
but  being  unkindly  treated,  I came  away  of  my  own  accord." 

“Good!  good  1 I like  that  I Nobody  can  set  their  heel 
upon  your  neck  ! You  are  not  fond  of  the  inquisition  either. 


202 


RE  TROSPECTIVE. 


nor  afraid  to  say  so.  You Ve  got  pluck,  and  I like  it ; but  I'm 
an  old  woman,  and  always  have  my  own  way  wherever  I am. 
ril  go  now,  though,  for  you  look  tired ; but  I shall  come  to  see 
you  again. " And  the  strange  character,  after  twisting  her  neck 
to  get  another  view  of  Brownie's  fair  face,  hobbled  from  the 
room,  striking  her  cane  upon  the  floor  with  a vigorous  thump 
at  every  step,  and  nodding  her  head  and  muttering  to  herself 
all  the  way  out. 

Brownie  fell  to  weeping  passionately  as  soon  as  she  was  gone. 
Her  sharp,  blunt  questions  had  brought  back  so  forcibly  the 
stern  realities  of  life,  and  she  felt  so  friendless  and  forlorn,  not 
knowing  which  way  to  turn  next. 

But  she  felt  better  after  the  shower,  and  began  to  lay  her  plans 
for  the  future. 

The  next  day  she  was  awakened  from  her  nap  the  same  as  on 
the  previous  day,  and  was  greeted  by  that  same  low  grunt  as 
she  opened  her  eyes. 

She  had  no  idea  how  long  the  woman  had  been  gazing  at  her, 
nor  how  she  had  entered  the  room,  for  she  had  heard  neither 
the  opening  nor  the  shutting  of  a door,  nor  the  thumping  of 
that  cane  across  the  floor. 

She  held  in  her  left  hand  to-day  a delicate  vase  of  fretted 
silver,  in  which  there  was  a single  stalk  of  hyacinths,  with  a few 
sprays  of  feathery  heath. 

'^Better  to-day?"  she  questioned,  briefly. 

Brownie  smiled  a little,  as  she  answered  in  tht  affirmative. 
She  saw  that  the  keen  gray  eyes  had  a softer,  kindlier  gleam  in 
them  than  they  had  yesterday. 

‘^Arm  pain  you  much?" 


RE  TROSPECTIVE, 


283 


'"No,  madam,  thank  you ; it  is  very  comfortable  to-day." 

“Do  you  like  flowers?"  and  she  held  out  the  vase  to  her. 

Brownie  sat  up,  her  lovely  face  flushing  all  over  with  delight, 
and  put  her  hand  out  to  receive  it. 

“ You  are  very  kind.  They  seem  like  a ray  of  sunshine 
after  a cold  and  dismal  storm,"  she  said,  bending  over  them  to 
Inhale  their  fragrance. 

“Humph ! it  takes  mighty  little  to  make  some  people  chip- 
per," the  old  woman  returned,  bluntly;  yet  there  was  a note  of 
satisfection  in  her  shrill  voice,  as  if  Brownie's  appreciation 
pleased  her. 

Then  she  asked : 

“Are  you  getting  stronger?  Are  you  able  to  walk  about  the 
room  ?" 

“Oh,  yes;  I am  quite  strong  to-day,  and  have  been  thinking 
I must  go  away  soon." 

“What  for?  Aren't  you  comfortable?"  and  the  old  lady 
spoke  more  sharply  than  usual. 

“Yes,  indeed ; too  comfortable.  I'm  afraid.  But  then  I am 
depending  on  strangers,  and  I ought  to  be  looking  out  for  my- 
lelf,"  Brownie  said,  her  cheeks  crimsoning  with  embarrassment. 

“What  could  you  do  with  your  arm  in  a sling,  I should  like 
to  know?"  her  visitor  said,  contemptuously. 

“That  would  not  hinder  my  teaching,  and  I ought  to  be  at 
work." 

“Ahem  ! you'd  like  me  to  think  you  are  one  of  the  indus- 
trious kind,  wouldn't  you  ?"  the  old  woman  said,  grimly. 

Evidently  she  did  not  like  anything  which  seemed  like  self 
praise. 


184 


J^EmOSPECTIFE. 


^'Oh,  no,”  Brownie  answered,  with  a mischievous  smile  ; 
aseure  you  I do  not  love  drudgery  a bit  better  than  other  people  ; 
but  when  one  has  not  a penny  excepting  what  one  earns,  it  is 
necessary  to  bestir  one's  self.  ” 

She  began  to  understand  this  strange,  antiquated  being,  and 
to  see  that  beneath  her  rough,  blunt  exterior  there  lay  a kindly 
although  somewhat  eccentric  nature. 

The  little  vase  of  hyacinths  and  heath  had  revealed  a great 
deal ; it  was  a delicate  attention,  which  only  a kind  heart  would 
have  prompted. 

Again  she  chuckled,  bobbed  her  head,  and  peered  into  the 
young,  sweet  face,  which  had  grown  so  much  brighter  since  she 
came  in  this  time. 

‘"Well,  if  you  want  to  work,  and  can  walk  a few  steps,  come 
with  me.  I'll  take  you  at  your  word,  and  set  you  a task  right 
away. '' 

Much  amused,  and  wondering  what  was  coming  next.  Brownie 
arose  with  alacrity,  for  she  had  grown  weary  of  being  shut  up  in 
one  room,  and  longed  for  a change. 

The  old  woman  led  the  way  half  across  the  room,  then  stop^ 
ping  short  and  turning  suddenly  around,  she  said  : 

Perhaps  you'd  like  to  know  who  I am,  since  I've  managed 
to  find  out  so  much  about  you  and  your  affairs.  I'm  Lady 
Ruxley,  and  I'm  aunt  to  Lady  Randal,  in  whose  house  you  are. 
She's  a hard-hearted  creature — Helen  is,  but  she  can't  come  it 
over  me ; no,  no,  not  until  I lose  more  of  my  wits  than  I havt 
yet,''  she  concluded,  with  a triump^iant  chuckle. 

Lady  Ruxley ! Lady  Ruxley ! V^here  had  sht  heard  that 
name  before  ? Brownie  wondered 


RETROSPECTIVE,  285 

It  sounded  familiar,  and  her  thoughts  went  leaping  back  into 
the  past. 

Then  all  at  once  it  came  to  her  with  a force  which  made  her 
feel  faint  and  sick,  and  she  caught  her  breath  with  almost  a sob. 

Lady  Ruxley  was  that  woman  at  whose  ball  in  London,  more 
than  forty  years  ago,  that  tragedy  in  her  aunt's  life  had  occurred, 
and  Lady  Randal  was,  without  a doubt,  the  hard-hearted  Helen, 
and  that  same  Helen  Capel  whose  cruel  plotting  and  intrigue 
had  ruined  the  life  of  Miss  Mehetabel  Douglas. 

And  she  had  been  receiving,  and  was  still  receiving,  such 
koftvy  obligations  from  the  hands  of  that  wicked  woman  ! 


286 


A LITTLE  MATTEE  OF  BUSINESS. 


^ CHAPTER  XXVI. 

A LITTLE  MATTER  OF  BUSINESS. 

^‘What's  the  matter?  You  are  not  strong  enough  to  walk! 
Go  back  and  sit  down/'  commanded  Lady  Ruxley,  as  she  saw 
the  young  girl  first  flush  a deep  crimson,  and  then  grow  white 
as  a ghost. 

But  she  quickly  recovered  herself. 

‘‘Thank  you,  but  I am  perfectly  able  to  go  ; I was  dizzy  for 
a moment,  though  it  has  passed  now,"  she  returned,  quietly, 
although  a tumult  of  feelings  was  raging  in  her  bosom. 

Giving  her  another  searching  glance,  her  ladyship  passed  on, 
and  instead  of  going  out  at  the  door,  as  Brownie  expected  she 
would  do,  she  proceeded  toward  the  opposite  side  of  the  room, 
where  a set  of  heavy  satin  damask  curtains  hung  suspended 
from  a richly-gilded  cornioe. 

Brownie  supposed  that  they  concealed  a window,  but  sweep- 
ing them  aside,  her  guide  conducted  her  through  a lofty  arch' 
way  into  a small  vestibule,  lighted  from  above  through  richly- 
stained  panels  of  glass  to  another  archway  also  concealed  by 
curtains. 

Passing  through  this  she  ushered  her  companion  into  the 
sunniest,  pleasantest,  airiest  room  in  the  world. 

It  was  a sort  of  parlor,  library,  and  music-room  combined# 


A LITTLE  MATTER  OF  BUSINESS.  287 

and  contained  eveiy  comfort  and  luxury  which  the  human 
heart  could  suggest 

Leading  from  this  large  room  was  a smaller  one,  in  which 
Brownie  caught  sight  of  a narrow  bed  simply  draped  in  white. 

She  afterward  learned  that  the  strange  old  woman,  out  of  the 
abundant  tenderness  of  her  heart  for  her  in  her  dangerous  con- 
dition, had  given  up  her  own  luxurious  chamber  to  her,  and 
slept  upon  this  small  couch  in  an  ante-room. 

‘‘Sit  down,"'  said  Lady  Ruxley,  indicating  by  a motion  of 
her  head  a tempting  chair  standing  near  a marble  table  covered 
with  richly  bound  books. 

Brownie  obeyed,  while  her  ladyship  seated  herself  in  another 
opposite. 

‘ ‘ There, ''  she  said,  when,  by  an  ingenious  contrivance,  she 
had  tipped  the  chair  back  so  that  she  could  look  at  her  with- 
out twisting  her  neck;  “now  Til  tell  you  what  I want  of 
you.  Three  weeks  ago  I sent  away  my  companion  because  she 
neglected  me.  I suppose  it  was  dull  staying  with  such  an  old 
drybones  as  I am  ; and  Tve  had  no  one  since  to  read  to  me,  or 
do  anything  for  my  amusement.  Now,  if  you  want  something 
to  do,  won’t  you  please  read  me  something  from  that  ‘ English 
Review.?”’ 

“With  pleasure,”  Brownie  replied,  her  pale  face  brightening 
again  with  the  thought  of  contributing  thus  to  the  poor  lonely 
old  womah’s  comfort. 

It  seemed  almost  like  the  old  times  with  her  own  auntie, 
only  it  would  have  appeared  more  real  if  Lady  Ruxley  had  not 
been  so  blunt  and  sharp,  but  a little  more  lovable,  like  Miss 
MehetabeL 


288 


A LITTLE  MATTER  OF  BUSINESS. 


She  read  an  hour,  in  clear,  distinct  tones,  which,  although 
her  ladyship  was  hard  of  hearing,  she  had  no  difficulty  in  catch- 
ing every  word. 

“That  was  reading  worth  listening  to,"'  she  said,  heaving  a 
»igh  of  appreciation.  “Now  put  the  book  aside,  and  rest 
a while. 

“lam  not  weary  ; let  me  read  you  something  else,’'  she  an- 
swered. 

“No,  no  ; I’ll  not  listen  to  any  more  now ; but  if  you  do 
not  mind.  I’d  like  you  to  sit  with  me  a while  longer.” 

“Yes,  certainly,  if  you  wish.” 

“Nobody  cares  for  an  old  mummy  like  me,”  (how  Brownie 
wished  she  would  not  call  herself  such  horrid  names),  “and  I 
do  get  lonely  staying  by  myself  all  the  time ; though  the  time 
was  when  there  were  few  who  were  not  glad  to  seek  the  society 
ef  Lady  Ruxley.  Minnett,  my  maid,  is  no  company,  and  I’ve 
not  been  able  to  find  any  one  who  was  willing  to  be  companion 
to  a deaf  old  woman. 

“They  try  to  be  polite,”  she  went  on,  garrulously,  “to  me 
when  I go  down  into  the  drawing-rooln,  because  they  know 
I’m  rich,  and  they  think  it  won’t  do  to  cross  me ; but  I know 
my  room  is  better  than  my  company.  Nobody  but  Charles 
cares  for  his  old  aunt ; he’s  Lady  Randal’s  son,  and  as  good  as 
gold.  He  never  pokes  fun  because  I am  so  unfortunate  as  to 
form  a right  angel  with  my  body,  and  have  to  twist  my  neck 
like  a turtle  in  its  shell  when  I want  to  see  anybody.  Hes 
always  civil,  and  would  give  me  his  arm  out  to  dinner  as  gal- 
lantly as  to  the  handsomest  belle  in  the  kingdom.  He  believes 
in  the  old  proverb  about  * honoring  the  hoaiy  head,’  which  is 


A LITTLE  MATTER  OE  BUSINESS.  28^ 

no  ore  than  most  young  people  nowadays  do.  How  is  it,  youn^ 
v/oman — do  j^ou  like  old  folks 

She  had  run  on  in  a rambling  sort  of  way,  but  as  she  asked 
this  question,  she  turned  to  Brownie,  and  eyed  her  keenly. 

had  a dear  aunt,  who  was  all  the  friend  I had  in  th€ 
world  since  I was  a little  baby.  She  was  both  fe,ther  and 
mother  to  me,  and  I shall  always  feel  tenderly  toward  old  people 
for  her  sake,’'  Brownie  replied,  the  quick  tears  springing  to  her 
eyes. 

"'Is  she  dead.?” 

‘'Yes ; she  died  the  fifth  of  last  September.” 

“ Was  she  old,  and  ugly,  and  withered  like  me 

Poor  Brownie ! it  was  a hard  question,  remembering  S(> 
vividly  as  she  did  Miss  Mehetabels  fair,  lovely  face,  set  in  its 
fiame-work  of  clustering  silvery  curls. 

The  comparison  was  not  favorable,  to  say  the  least,  to  this 
antedeluvian  before  her. 

She  flushed  with  embarrassment  as  she  gently  replied : 

“All  old  people  grow  wrinkled,  you  know,  and  her  hair  was 
much  whiter  than  yours.” 

Lady  Ruxley  chuckled  merrily  over  this  non-committal  an- 
swer. 

“ Young  woman,  you  are  as  ‘ wisd  as  a serpent,  and  as  harm- 
less as  a dove,’  and  I’m  of  the  opinion  that  your  aunt  might 
have  thought  considerable  of  you.  What  was  her  name?” 

“I  was  named  for  her,”  the  young  girl  replied,  evasively. 

“ Mabel  Dundas.  It  is  a pretty  name  ; I like  it.” 

And  the  aueer  old  lady  looked  as  if  she  liked  the  owner 
it,  too. 


290 


A LIT riE  MATTEE  OE  BUSINESS. 


“ Do  you  play  chess  V*  Brownie  asked,  to  change  the  subject, 
and  glancing  toward  an  elegant  chess-table  of  ebony  inlaid  in 
squares  with  pearl  and  gold. 

‘‘Yes,  yes;  do  you  know  the  game returned  Lady  Ruxley, 
(iagerly. 

“ I used  to  play  with  aunt  some  ; perhaps  it  would  pass  away 
an  hour  if  we  should  play  a game."' 

Her  ladyship  chuckled  and  nodded  her  head  contentedly, 
and  then  started  up  to  arrange  the  table. 

“Please  keep  your  seat,  Lady  Ruxley,  and  allow  me  to  wait 
upK)n  you,'^  Brownie  said,  rising  quickly. 

She  wheeled  the  little  table  close  to  her  ladyship's  chair  with 
her  right  hand,  and  dextrously  arranged  the  men. 

Then  she  drew  up  her  own  chair,  and  the  contest  began. 

Two  hours  passed  rapidly  while  engaged  in  this  fascinating 
game. 

Brownie  checkmated  her  opponent  the  first  two  games,  but 
losing  (?)  her  queen  the  third  crippled  her,  and  Lady  Ruxley 
won. 

“You  lost  your  queen;  but  if  I beat,  /want  to  beat !"  she 
siaid,  sharply,  although  there  was  a kindly  gleam  in  her  eyes 
which  belied  her  harsh  words,  and  Brownie  smiled  to  see  how 
quickly  she  had  detected  her  ruse. 

The  next  morning,  after  the  servant  who  waited  upon 
Brownie  had  attended  to  all  her  wants,  and  left  her,  ther« 
came  a rap  upon  her  door.  The  next  moment  a handsome 
woman  of  about  fifty  entered.  Brownie  arose,  bowed  courte- 
ously, and  remained  standing  till  she  was  addressed. 

“Miss  Dundas*"  the  lady  said,  “I  must  apologize  to  you 


/ ; i / 

A LITTLE  MATTER  OF  BUSINESS.  2gt 

for  any  seeming  neglect  in  not  coming  to  see  you  before,  but 
i nave  a house  full  of  company ; but  I have  given  orders  that 
you  should  want  for  riothing.  I am  Lady  Randal,  and  I have 
come  to  have  a few  moments’  conversation  with  you.” 

She  seated  herself,  and  motioned  for  Brownie  to  do  the  same, 
tnen  resumed  : 

'‘You  have  had  quite  a serious  accident,  and  I am  glad  to 
see  you  are  better.  Are  you  quite  comfortable,  and  do  the  ser- 
vants attend  you  properly  and  she  put  up  her  eye-glasses  to 
inspect  the  stranger. 

Thank  you,  I have  been  very  kindly  cared  for,  and  am  very 
grateful  for  the  good  Samaritan’s  charity  which  has  provided  for 
my  necessities,”  Brownie  answered,  trying  to  speak  heartily, 
although  she  felt  the  greatest  repugnance  toward  this  woman, 
who  she  believed  was  guilty  of  so  much  wrong. 

She  had  a cold,  false  eye,  and  a cunning,  cruel  expression 
about  her  handsome  mouth. 

She  was  just  the  kind  of  a woman  to  ruin  the  life  of  any  one 
who  stood  in  her  way.  Brownie  thought. 

She  laughed  lightly  but  disagreeably  at  the  young  girl’s  words. 

"Oh,  I do  not  claim  any  merit  whatever  regarding  your  com- 
fort or  necessities.  My  house  was  full,  and  at  first  I thought  it 
[ would  be  impossible  to  take  you  in,  but  Lady  Ruxley,  who  is 
very  eccentric  and  willful,  insisted  upon  it,  and  gave  up  her 
own  chamber  for  your  accommodation,  she  sleeping  meanwhile 
i in  her  maid’s  room.  ” 

I Brownie’s  fair  face  grew  scarlet,  as  she  listened  to  this,  and 
I was  made  to  feel,  by  the  indelicate  explanation,  that  Lady  Ran- 

[ dal,  at  least,  had  regarded  her  in  the  light  of  an  intruder. 

1 


A LITTLE  MATTER  OF  BUSINESS. 


292 

It  explained  to  her,  too,  what  she  had  at  first  considered 
singular — that  the  rooms  should  be  connected  by  archways  and 
curtains  instead  of  doors. 

''I  regret  exceedingly,''  she  returned,  with  dignity,  ‘'that  I 
should  have  put  an  aged  lady  like  Lady  Ruxley  to  such  incon- 
venience. I laid  my  plans  yesterday  to  go  to  some  hotel  as 
soon  as  I should  be  able,  and  remain  until  I fully  recover  the 
use  of  my  arm.  If  you  will  allow  one  of  your  servants  to 
order  a carriage  for  me,  I will  put  my  plan  into  execution  at 
once. " 

“No,  no.  Miss  Dundas,  that  would  never  do  at  all,  and 
Aunt  Ruxley  would  berate  me  soundly  if  she  knew  I had  told  ; 
you  this.  She  is  a very  queer  woman,  as  doubtless  you  dis-  | 
covered  yesterday.  She  will  not  be  crossed  in  anything,  and  | 
when  her  mind  is  once  made  up,  you  can  no  more  move  her  I 
than  you  could  one  of  the  seven  hills  of  Rome.  She  saw  the  | 
cab  in  which  you  were,  when  it  was  overturned,  from  one  of 
the  drawing-room  windows,  and  immediately  hobbled  to  the 
door  where  she  ordered  James,  the  butler,  to  bring  you  in.  | 
Since  then  she  has  paid  you  a visit  every  day,  although  she  tells  | 
me  that  you  did  not  discover  it  until  the  day  before  yesterday, 
when  you  awoke  and  found  her  standing  over  you.  But,"  con- 
tinued the  woman,  who  had  never  once  taken  her  eyes  from  the 
fair  young  face  before  her,  and  had  read  its  every  expression 
with  a boldness  which  made  her  odious,  “I  did  not  come  to  ! 
tell  you  this — I came  upon  a little  matter  of  business." 

She  paused  a moment,  and  Brownie  wondered  what  business  | 
•he  could  have  with  her.  | 

“ Aunt  Ruxley  has  taken  a great  shine  to  you,  so  to  speak, ; 


A LITTLE  MAT  TEE  OF  BUSINESS. 


m 


she  resumed,  “and  has  commissioned  me  to  ask  y«ra  if  you 
would  be  willing  to  remain  with  her  as  her  companion  ? Wait, 
if  you  please,  until  I get  through.  Miss  Dundas,  before  you 
decide,*’ she  said,  as  Brownie  looked  up  in  surprise,  and  then 
went  on,  as  if  she  supposed  the  young  girl  possessed  of  no 
feeling  or  delicacy  : “I  do  not  approve  of  the  plan  myself;  I 
never  believed  in  engaging  any  one  in  this  way,  for  she  saysf  ou 
have  no  recommendation  or  credentials  beyond  your  own  word. 
But  she  has  set  her  heart  upon  it,  and  seems  tochinkfou  will 
be  willing  to  remain.  It  is  very  difficult  to  get  any  one  of  th€ 
right  sort  who  is  willing  to  stay  and  do  for  her  what  she  requires, 
on  account  of  her  peculiarities.  We  have  tried  several  during 
the  last  two  years.  Now,  if  you  think  you  would  like  the  place, 
and  would  exert  yourself  to  please  her,  we  will  overlook  ^our 
lack  of  credentials,  and  I think  we  can  arrange  to  give  you  the 
situation.  Your  salary  would  be  fifty  pounds  a year.  Of 
course  we  do  not  expect,”  she  hastened  to  add,  “that  you  can 
do  very  much  until  your  arm  gets  strong,  and  we  will  make 
every  allowance  for  that.” 

Brownie  was  disgusted  with  the  woman’s  coarseness,  and  felt 
more  like  refusing  the  offer  than  accepting  it,  but  what  could 
she  do  ? 

It  seemed  like  flying  in  the  face  of  Providence  to  reject  it. 

She  had  no  credentials,  and  no  good  family  having  children 
would  engage  her  without,  and  she  knew  she  was  likely  to  fare 
no  better,  if  as  well,  if  she  returned  to  her  native  land,  unless 
she  should  acknowledge  she  had  failed  in  her  great  under- 
taking, and  fall  back  upon  Mr.  Conrad’s  offer  to  give  her  a 
home- 


394 


A LITTLE  MATTER  OF  BUSINESS. 


She  was  convinced  that,  with  all  her  eccentricities,  Lady 
Ruxley  was  kind  at  heart,  and  if  she  were  treated  with  proper 
respect  and  consideration  she  believed  she  would  not  prove  a 
hard  mistress,  and  fifty  pounds  a year  would  do  very  well  to 
begin  with,  and  might  be  a stepping-stone  to  a larger  salary  in 
the  future. 

So,  after  thinking  the  matter  over  carefully,  she  decided  to 
accept  Lady  Randal’s  offer. 

“Does  Lady  Ruxley  remain  in  town  most  of  the  year  V she 
asked,  before  giving  her  answer. 

“Oh,  no.  I ought  to  have  mentioned  that  we  all  leave  town 
in  a few  weeks  for  our  country  seat,  in  Kent  County,  where 
Lady  Ruxley  has  a house  of  her  own,  preferring  to  live  alone 
rather  than  endure  the  noise  and  confusion  of  Vallingham  Hall. 
Do  you  object  to  the  country  V' 

“Oh,  no,  I like  it.” 

This  intelligence  relieved  Brownie  greatly,  for  she  felt  as  if 
she  could  scarcely  endure  to  live  in  the  same  house  with  this 
woman. 

“It  may  be  a little  lonely  for  you  at  first,”  Lady  Randal 
added,  “but  aunt  frequently  pays  a visit  at  the  Hall,  for  she 
likes  to  know  what  is  going  on  in  the  world,  I assure  you,  if 
® she  does  live  alone  with  her  servants  most  of  the  time.  ” 

“I  will  accept  this  position.  Lady  Randal,  and  if  I can  make 
Lady  Ruxley’s  life  more  pleasant  than  it  has  been  I shall  be 
very  thankful,  ” Brownie  said,  gravely,  yet  a little  proudly. 

She  did  not  fancy  her  visitor  s patronizing,  almost  insolent 
manner,  and  inwardly  resented  her  bold,  fixed  stare. 

“Very  well,  then  we  will  call  the  matter  settled,”  Lady  Raij- 


A UTTLE  MATTER  OF  BUSINESS, 


295 


dal  replied,  rising,  and  infinitely  relieved  that  she  had  becK  able 
to  secure  a companion  for  her  troublesome  aunt,  though  she 
thought  the  girl  a ‘'proud  minx.”  . 

She  left  her  with  a cool  good-morning,  and  the  young  girl 
seemed  to  breathe  freer  the  moment  the  door  closed  after  her. 

* 

“Can  you  be  happy  with  suck  a blunt,  cross-grained  old 
woman  as  I am asked  Lady  Ruxley,  when  she  next  saw 
Brownie. 

“It  does  not  always  do  to  judge  people  by  their  exterior,” 
she  replied,  smiling,  and  then  she  blushed,  fearing  she  had 
admitted  too  much. 

“What  do  you  mean  by  that?”  and  the  keen  eyes  searched 
her. 

“I  mean  that  though  you  have  a blunt  way  of  addressing 
people,  I think  you  have  a very  kind  heart  underneath  it  all, 
else  you  would  never  have  befriended  a poor  stray  waif  like  me 
in  the  way  you  did.  I am  sorry  you  should  have  been  put  tc 
so  much  inconvenience,”  and  Brownie's  sweet  lips  trembled. 

‘ ‘ Pshaw  ! child,  you  were  too  pretty  to  be  left  lying  there  in 
the  gutter  for  anybody  to  pick  up  and  carry  off.  I suppose 
Helen  ran  on  about  the  inconvenience  of  the  thing,  and  she 
was  a fool  to  tell  you  about  it,”  the  old  lady  answ'ered,  some- 
w'hat  disturbed. 

A month  later  they  were  settled  in  that  gem  of  a villa,  near 
Vallingham  Hall. 

Brownie  had  fully  recovered,  and  her  arm  was  getting 
stronger  every  day,  so  that  she  venture^l  now  to  use  it  daily  to 
entertain  her  strange  employer,  who  waji  very  fond  of  music. 


2g6  ^ LITTLE  MATTER  OF  BUSINESS, 

She  really  grew  quite  attached  to  the  old  lady  when  she  be- 
came better  acquainted  with  her,  and  found  her,  with  all  her 
oddities,  a much  more  congenial  companion  than  either  Mrs. 
Coolidge  or  Isabel  had  been. 

She  did  sometimes  grow  weary,  and  long  for  the  sight  of  a 
young  face,  but  Lady  Ruxley's  library  table  was  covered  with 
all  the  first-class  periodicals  of  the  day ; while  she  was  continu- 
ally ordering  music  from  London  for  her. 

She  read  a great  deal,  and  practiced  several  hours  a day,  so 
that  the  time  slipped  by  until  Lady  Randal  and  her  family  came 
down  to  Vallingham  Hall,  the  advent  of  which  was  to  open  a 
lew  era  in  Brownie  Douglas'  life  1 


>9!? 


^AND  you  WILL  BE  MY  W/F£/^ 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

‘‘and  you  will  be  my  wife!" 

The  events  contained  in  the  last  two  chapters  Brownie  related 
in  substance  to  Adrian,  as  they  sat  together  upon  the  rock  where 
he  had  first  discovered  who  she  was  the  night  previous. 

She  told  him  also  of  that  unfortunate  scene  with  Wilbur 
Coolidge  in  the  library,  and  of  the  abuse  and  insult  which 
Isabel  and  her  mother  heaped  upon  her  upon  discovering  the 
young  man's  preference  for  her. 

“I  knew  from  the  first  they  abused  you,  darling,  and  Wilbur 
told  me  something  regarding  the  jewels,  but  I never  dreamed 
of  anything  so  wicked  as  this.  It  is  all  over  with  now,  how- 
ever— you  shall  have  your  property  back  again,  arid  Miss  Isabel 
shall  suffer  for  her  superciliousness.  I suppose  you  know  she 
is  engaged  to  Sir  Charles  Randal, " Adrian  said,  when  she  had 
concluded. 

“Sir  Charles  Randal  I Nol"  replied  Brownie,  growing  pale 
at  the  intelligence. 

“What!  you  have  been  an  inmate  of  their  family  so  long, 
and  not  know  of  this  important  circumstance. " 

‘ ^ I saw  but  very  little  of  the  family  while  I was  at  their  house 
in  London.  I was  with  Lady  Ruxley  constantly,  and  scarcely 
went  out  until  we  came  down  to  West  Mailing,  which  we  did  a 


29^  YOU  WILL  BE  MY  WIFE!^ 

month  before  the  family  at  the  Hall ; and  we  have  not  seen 
much  of  them  since,  but  live  very  quietly  and  pleasantly  at  the 
villa/^ 

Lady  Ruxley  is  a very  peculiar  woman.  Do  you  not  find 
her  so?”  Adrian  asked,  an  amused  look  in  his  eyes. 

‘^Yes;  and  yet  there  are  very  few  people  who  really  know 
her.  She  is  kindness  itself  at  heart.” 

‘‘She  is  very  rich,  too.” 

“Yes,  so  I have  heard ; and  that  Sir  Charles  will  have  all  hex 
wealth  at  her  death.  ” 

“I  suppose  he  will.” 

“I  am  told  he  is  a very  fine  young  mam  and  I am  so  sorry 
that — that ” 

Brownie  stopped  short  and  colored. 

She  was  about  to  say  she  regretted  his  engagement  to  Isabel, 
but  she  would  not  speak  against  her,  notwithstanding  all  her 
abuse  of  her. 

“That  he  has  been  so  taken  in,”  Adrian  finished  for  her. 
“It  is  too  bad,  for  Charles  really  deserves  a letter  fate,”  he 
added,  with  a clouded  brow. 

“By  the  way,”  and  Brownie  glanced  up  mischievously,  “do 
you  know  that  that  honor  was  intended  for  ynu/* 

“I  surmised  as  much  from  certain  ciraum stances  which  came 
to  my  knowledge,”  he  replied,  with  a scornful  curl  of  his  fine 
lips.  “But,”  he  added,  a moment  after,  as  he  gathered  her 
close  in  his  arms,  “she  will  find  that  there  was  one  who  could 
look  beneath  the  surface.  My  darling — my  darling — my  pure 
little  pearl ! what  is  she  compared  with  you?” 

“And  yet,  it  may  be,  that  beneath  all  her  cruelty  and  harct 


^^AND  vocr  WILL  BE  MY  W/EE/'^ 


299 

nefis  she  has  a heart  susceptible  to  good ; we  will  not  judge  her 
too  severely,”  Brownie  said,  gently. 

Little  charity,”  Adrian  replied,  tenderly.  ‘‘I  hope,  for  her 
own  sake,  that  it  may  be  so ; but,  at  all  events,  I shall  be  very 
proud  to  introduce  you,  whom  she  has  so  abused  and  maligned, 
as  my  wife — when  shall  it  be,  my  Brownie?” 

“Don’t  you  think  your  questions  are  getting  altogether  too 
pointed  and  practical,  considering  the  length  of  our  acquaint- 
ance?” she  retorted,  a mischievous,  happy  gleam  in  her  eye,  but 
with  a face  that  was  “a  rosy  red.” 

“But,  dear,  you  are  so  alone  in  the  world.” 

“No,  I am  no  longer  alone,  Ad — Mr.  Dredmond.” 

“Ah,  you  spoiled  that,  darling,”  he  said,  reproachfully. 

“ Well,  then,  Adrian,  since  I have  your  love,  I shall  never 
feel  lonely  again,  let  come  what  will,”  and  she  lifted  her  trust- 
ing eyes  to  his. 

Ah,  but  she  did  not  know  what  she  was  saying ! 

“But,  my  darling,  now  that  I have  found  you  and  won  you, 
I want  to  rivet  the  bonds  which  unite  us,  lest  some  other  calam^ 
ity  befall  you,”  he  said,  bending  his  lips  to  hers. 

“But — but  Lady  Ruxley  will  be  very  much  disappointed.” 

“I  presume  so;  I should  be  somewhat  surprised  if  she  was 
not.  But  is  Lady  Ruxley  of  more  consequence  than  some  one 
else  whom  you  know? ' the  young  man  asked,  with  mock  hu- 
mility, as,  placing  one  finger  beneath  her  chin,  he  raised  tiie 
blushing  face  so  that  he  could  look  into  the  lovely  eyes. 

“No;  oh,  no — but ” with  a little  smile. 

“But  what,  dear?”  questioned  her  lover,  tenderly,  as  he  saw 
the  sensitive  lips  quivering. 


JOO 


*^AND  YOU  WILL  BE  MY  WIFE  U* 


Adrian,  I may  as  well  say  it  first  as  last — I shrink 
from  the  ordeal  which  I know  must  come.  ” 

**  What  ordeal he  asked,  very  gravely. 

I have  heard  that  you  are  allied  to  a noble  house — that  you 
are  some  time  to  inherit  great  possessions  and  a title,  though 
just  what  that  title  is  I know  not ; and  I fear  that  your  proud 
kinsmen  will  scorn  the  idea  of  a poor,  friendless  waif  like  me 
becoming  your  wife 

‘‘  Who  informed  you  that  I was  heir  to  such  ‘great  expecta- 
tions,' " he  asked,  with  a quiet  smile, 

“It  was  spoken  of  often  by  Mrs.  Coolidge  and  her  daugh- 
ter." 

“And  diO  you  deem  yourself  unworthy  to  be  my  wife  on  ac- 
count of  your  poverty/' 

“No!"  and  the  bright  head  was  lifted  proudly  now,  the 
^ovely  eyes  glowed  with  a fire  which  told  that,  despite  her  lack 
df  wealth  and  position,  she  considered  herself  the  equal  of  the 
proudest  in  the  land. 

“What  then.?  Suppose  you  and  I were  suddenly  to  change 
places,  would  you  deem  me  to  be  unworthy  to  be  your  husband 
because  I had  lost  my  wealth .?" 

“No  1 I should  be  proud " 

He  stopped  her  lips  with  tender  kisses. 

“And  I,  my  darling,  should  be  proud  to  call  you  my  v/ixv^ 
were  you  the  lowliest-born  in  all  England.  But  you  are  not ; 
you  are  my  equal  in  birth  and  station,  and  it  is  only  an  accident 
which  has  placed  you  where  any  one  is  liable  to  be.  A man 
often  misses  his  expectations,  and  I am  only  plain  Adrian  Dred- 


•*AND  YOU  WILL  BE  MY  W/EE/** 


301 


mond  as  yet ; surely  you  are  not  afraid  of  me,  if  you  are  of 
those  whom  you  choose  to  term  my  high-born  kinsmen/' 

Brownie  nestled  closer  to  him  as  she  replied,  with  dignity : 

''I  am  afraid  of  no  one,  yet  one  naturally  shrinks  from 
bringing  contempt  upon  one  whom  one  loves,  and  you  know 
the  ways  of  the  world,  Adrian. 

She  was  getting  used  to  speaking  his  name  now,  and  it 
thrilled  him  whenever  it  dropped  from  her  lips. 

^^You  never  can  bring  contempt  upon  me.  The  world  may 
say  what  it  pleases — and  I warn  you  it  will  not  dare  say  veiy 
much — you  and  I are  the  parties  most  interested  in  this  matter, 
and  since  I am  of  age,  and  capable  of  choosing  my  own  wife, 
I think  we  will  call  no  one  else  into  the  consultation,"  he  said, 
decisively. 

Brownie  laughed  at  his  way  of  settling  the  matter. 

‘‘You  have  not  answered  me  yet,  darling,"  he  added,  a men 
ment  after;  “you  have  given  yourself  to  me?" 

“Yes,  Adrian,  I am  proud  to  give  myself  to  you?" 

“ And  you  will  be  my  wife  ?"  drawing  her  closer. 

“Yes." 

“ Whenever  I say  ?" 

She  lifted  her  eyes  again  to  read  his,  but  their  light  dazzled 
her,  and  with  her  own  lashes  drooping  shyly  upon  her  crimson 
cheeks,  she  murmured ; 

‘ ‘ Whenever  you  will,  dear. " 

There  was  a silence  of  several  minutes,  during  which  only 
the  dashing  of  the  river  beneath  them  and  the  beating  of  their 
own  hearts  could  be  distinguished.  Brownie  felt  trustfully, 
peacefully  happy,  and  that  the  trials  and  struggles  to  which  she 


302 


^AND  YOa  WILL  BE  MV  WIFE 


had  been  subjected  during  the  past  six  months  were  over,  while 
Adrian  s manly  heart  beat  with  pride  and  joy  over  the  lovely 
bride  he  had  won. 

At  length  he  whispered  : 

'‘Then,  my  Brownie,  with  your  permission,  I will  see  Lady 
Ruxley  immediately,  after  which  I shall  wish  to  introduce  you 
to  those  high-born  kinsmen  of  mine. '' 

"Not  to-day,  Adrian,  please.  I cannot  bear  you  to  speak  ^ 
to  Laay  Ruxley  to-day.  I have  hardly  got  used  to  my  own 
happiness  yet  Let  it  rest  until  we  go  back  to  the  villa,  and 
then  I will  not  say  you  nay,''  pleaded  the  young  girl,  earnestly. 

Her  joy  was  something  so  new  and  sacred  that  she  felt  urn 
willing  to  impart  the  knowledge  of  it  yet  to  any  one. 

"Very  well,  darling,  let  it  be  as  you  wish.  That  will  not  be 
very  long  to  wait,  and  meantime  I shall  call  the  high  and 
mighty  ones  into  counsel,"  he  replied,  with  a sly  laugh,  which 
brought  the  ever-ready  color  into  her  cheeks  again. 

He  was  so  confident  of  the  welcome  whict  she  would  receive 
from  Lord  and  Lady  Dunforth  I 


^^SHE  IS  HOT  BENEATH  MEN 


303 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

‘‘she  is  not  beneath  me. 

Contrary  to  her  own  and  Brovv^nie's  expectations,  and  some- 
;rhat  to  the  disappointment  of  the  latter,  Lady  Ruxley  decided 
to  return  to  West  Mailing  the  next  afternoon.  She  had  taken 
cold  the  night  previous,  and  was  not  as  well  as  usual,  and 
thought  she  would  feel  better  to  be  at  home.  , 

Lord  Dunforth  politely  urged  her  to  remain,  while  Lady 
Dunforth  regretted  her  indisposition,  and  promised  that  she 
should  receive  every  attention,  but  all  to  no  purpose,  and  at 
four  o’clock  she  was  assisted  to  her  carriage  by  Adrian,  who  had 
tried  in  vain  all  day  to  secure  an  interview  with  his  betrothed. 

The  exacting  old  woman,  for  the  first  time  during  Brownie’s 
sojourn  with  her,  had  been  really  cross,  keeping  her  gentle 
companion  in  constant  attendance  upon  her,  so  the  young 
lovers  had  to  content  themselves  with  a fond  pressure  of  the 
hand,  a loving  glance  of  the  eye,  and  a low-breathed  farewell 
“I  shall  come  soon,  my  darling,”  Adrian  had  managed  to 
whisper  as  he  handed  her  into  the  carriage,  and  then  stood  wist- 
fully watching  it  until  it  was  out  of  sight. 

Lady  Ruxley  reached  home  about  five,  where  she  found 
awaiting  her  a summons  to  Vallingham  Hall. 

Lady  Randal  was  planning  a musical  soiree  to  com#  off  the 


<^SHE  IS  NOT  BENEATH  MEN 


3^4 

following  week,  and  requested  her  aunt  to  lend  her  Miss  Dun- 
das'  services  for  the  occasion.  She  also  stated  that  it  would 
take  three  or  four  days'  practice  to  prepare  for  the  occasion, 
meanwhile  they  were  invited  to  make  the  Hall  their  home,  she 
promising  that  her  ladyship  should  have  every  comfort  and  at- 
tention, and  be  assigned  rooms  in  as  quiet  a portion  of  th« 
house  as  possible. 

'Ht  will  do  the  child  good;  she  has  perked  up  wonderfully 
in  the  last  two  days  by  just  going  over  to  Dunforth  Castle," 
mused  the  old  lady,  who  continued  to  marvel  at  the  wondrous 
change  in  her  usually  sad  companion. 

Truly  the  mournful  eyes  had  grown  strangely  brilliant,  and 
the  pale  cheeks  were  now  tinged  with  the  loveliest  pink  that 
ever  gleamed  in  the  heart  of  a sea-shell. 

‘‘Poor  child !"  she  continued,  as  her  mind  went  back  over 
the  last  two  months,“  she  has  been  shut  up  so  tight  with  a 
withered  old  woman,  that  it's  no  wonder  she  has  drooped  ; she 
wiLl  die  if  I don't  give  her  a chance  to  see  some  life  and  gayety. 
Yes,  we  will  go.  " 

Wholly  unmindful  of  the  aches  and  pains  which  had  hurried 
her  home  from  Dunforth  Castle,  she  rang  the  bell  furious  peal 
for  her  maid. 

“Pack  up  a week's  supply  of  clothing  and  have  it  ready  by 
ten  to-morrow.  We  go  to  Vallingham  Hall  for  ^ seven  days' 
visit." 

With  which  command,  she  left  the  astonished  Minnett  and 
hobbled  away  to  find  Brownie  and  impart  the  news  to  her. 

Poor  ' linnett,  who  had  but  just  unpacked,  nnd  who  knew 
that  my  lady  hated  Vallingham  Hall  when  it  was  full  of  com' 


•*SHE  IS  NOT  BENEATH  MEH  305 

pany,  grumbled,  and  wondered  what  new  freak  would  possess 
her  strange  mistress  next. 

Brownie,  as  soon  as  she  had  removed  her  wrappings,  repaired 
to  the  conservatory,  and  was  greatly  surprised  when  she  heard 
Lady  Ruxley's  cane  come  clicking  over  the  tiled  floor,  sup  - 
posing her  to  be  snug  in  bed,  and  enjoying  the  delights  of  a 
rousing  rum-sweat — her  favorite  remedy  for  colds  and  rheu- 
matics. 

''I  thought  I should  find  you  here,''  her  ladyship  said,  as 
Brownie  arose  quickly  and  came  forward  to  lead  her  to  a chair. 
'‘You  like  birds  and  flowers,  don't  you.?"  she  added,  keenly 
regarding  the  lovely  smiling  face  and  sparkling  eyes. 

"Yes,  my  lady,  I am  exceedingly  fond  of  them.  But  are 
you  not  imprudent  to  come  here  where  it  is  so  damp,  with  your 
cold .?"  she  asked,  as  she  seated  her  and  placed  a hassock  at  her 
feet.  She  was  ever  tenderly  mindful  of  her  comfort. 

"No,  no,  child  ; I’m  all  right  now  I am  home  again.  I never 
feel  well  when  Lm  visiting — that  is,"  she  hastened  to  add,  "in 
strange  places.  It  did  you  good,  though  ; you  have  more  color, 
and  look  brighter. " 

"Yes,  I am  much  better  than  when  I first  came  to  West  Mail- 
ing," Brownie  admitted,  with  a conscious  blush. 

"Yes,  the  trip  to  the  Castle  did  you  much  good  undoubt- 
edly," persisted  her  ladyship,  nodding  and  chuckling  knowingly. 

What  could  she  mean .?  Brownie  wondered. 

Had  she  fathomed  her  secret  with  those  keen  eyes  and  sharp 
perceptive  faculties  of  hers.? 

It  seemed  like  it,  surely ; but  she  would  not  commit  herself 


3o6 


^^SHE  IS  NOT  BENEATH  MEN 


if  she  could  help  it.  Adrian  must  break  the  knowledge  of  theif 
engagement  to  her  himself ; so  she  only  murmured  ; 

''It  was  a change,  you  know.'' 

"Yes,  yes;  that's  it.  Young  folks  need  change.  I was  a 
fool  not  to  think  of  it  before.  I might  have  known  that  a 
young,  bright  thing  like  you  would  droop  and  pine,  hived  up 
with  a crooning  old  owl  like  me  for  company." 

"Pray,  dear  Lady  Ruxley,  do  not  talk  so!"  Brownie  inter- 
rupted, eagerly,  and  much  distressed  at  her  words.  "Indeed, 
I have  been  very  happy  with  you — much  more  so  than  I was 
during  the  five  months  previous. " 

"I  know — I know  all  about  it.  You're  plucky,  and  you 
will  not  own  it  to  me.  But  you've  been  lonely  and  sad.  I've 
got  eyes,  and  I can  see  for  myself.  You  went  away  from  here 
pale,  sad,  and  quiet ; you  come  back  rosy,  happy,  almost  gay^ 
and  the  life,  music,  and  company  up  yonder  was  what  you 
needed,  and  you  shall  have  some  more  of  it  I like  to  see 
folks  bright  and  chipper  about  me." 

Brownie  felt  more  and  more  guilty. 

She  knew  what  Lady  Ruxley  said  about  her  looks  and  ap- 
pearance was  true  ; and  though  she  knew  that  she  would  soon 
know  the  reason  for  the  change  in  her,  yet  she  felt  a trifle  guilty 
to  allow  her  to  attribute  it  to  anything  else,  and  blame  herself 
for  her  former  sadness. 

But  her  next  words  filled  her  with  still  deeper  dismay. 

"They've  got  a house  full  of  company  as  usual  up  at  the 
Hall,  and  we  go  there,  too,  to-morrow,  to  stop  a few  days. " 

"Indeed,  Lady  Ruxley,  I hope  you  are  not  going  on  my  ac-^ 


^^SNE  IS  NOT  BENEATH  ME. 


307 


count.  I do  not  desire  or  need  company,  and  I should  really 
prefer  to  remain  quietly  here, ''  she  said,  in  distress. 

‘‘Oh!  Fve  got  eyes — good  ones,  too,  if  they  are  old;  be- 
sides, Lady  Randal  desires  it.  She  is  getting  up  a soiree,  and 
desires  your  services  as  musician.  She  sent  a note  to-day, 
asking  me.'' 

“But — but  you  are  not  well.  Really,  I think  it  would  be 
best  for  neither  of  us  to  go. " 

“ Oh,  I'm  all  right,  and  I've  given  Minnett  orders  to  have 
everything  in  readiness  by  to-morrow  at  ten.  You  will  please 
be  ready  by  that  time,  too,"  returned  her  ladyship,  somewhat 
impatiently,  who  thought  the  young  girl  hesitated  about  going 
only  on  her  account. 

That  settled  it,  of  course. 

Brownie  could  not  refuse  point-blank  to  go,  but  her  heart 
grew  faint  within  her  at  the  thought  of  meeting  the  Coolidges, 
and  particularly  under  an  assumed  name. 

Of  course  she  could  not  avoid  meeting  them,  and  doubtless 
they  would  reveal  all  the  past  to  both  Lady  Randal  and  Lady 
Ruxley. 

They  would  tell  their  story  about  the  jewels,  and  of  that  scene 
with  Wilbur,  and  the  way  she  had  left  their  employ. 

She  grew  pale,  and  silent,  and  depressed  again,  and  sat  a long 
time  after  my  lady  had  left  her  in  troubled  thought,  unti?  sud- 
denly she  remembered  that  Adrian  loved  her — that  she  was  hi$ 
promised  wife. 

She  grew  strong  at  once  again  with  the  thought 

She  drew  herself  proudly  up. 


3o8 


"SHE  IS  NOT  BENEATH  ME." 


What  need  had  she  to  fear  Isabel  Coolidge,  or,  indeed,  any 
one,  now  that  she  had  him  to  lean  upon  and  protect  her  ? 

The  only  circumstance  she  regretted  was  the  false  name. 
She  was  sorry  she  had  not  corrected  Lady  Ruxley's  mistake  in 
the  first  place,  and  kept  her  own. 

Aside  from  that,  she  was  conscious  of  her  own  purity  an^ 
innocence,  and  felt  that  she  could  give  back  scorn  for  scorn  ; 
'While,  if  worse  came  to  worst,  she  could  tell  her  own  story 
about  the  jewels,  and  call  upon  Adrian  to  corroborate  the  truth 
" of  her  statement. 

Yes,  she  resolved  to  go  to  Vallingham  Hall,  and  with  a feel- 
ing of  independence  such  as  she  had  not  known  since  leaving 
the  United  States.  Perhaps,  too,  she  should  be  able  to  get  back 
her  jewels. 

In  a few  days  every  one  would  know  of  her  engagement,  and 
then  they  would  be  obliged  to  receive  her  as  she  ought  to  be 
received,  or  else  give  the  cold  shoulder  to  Adrian,  which  she  did 
not  have  the  least  fear  they  would  do. 

She  knew  she  was  capable  of  outshining  Isabel  anywhere ; 
she  was  more  thoroughly  accomplished,  and  more  at  ease  in 
company.  She  resolved  to  do  her  very  best  for  Lady  Randal 
until  Adrian  shoulcL^ome  to  claim  her,  which,  she  doubted  not, 
would  be  in  a very  few  days  ; then  there  would  be  no  more  toil 
or  care  for  her — nothing  but  the  bliss  of  loving  and  being  be- 
loved. ^ 

With  these  brighter  thoughts  in  her  mind,  she  sought  her  I 
own  room  to  prepare  for  her  absence  and  the  approaching  S 
gayeties,  which,  after  all,  she  began  to  anticipate  with  something  J 
of  pleasure  and  interest.  | 


*^SHE  rs  MOT  BE  MEATH  ME. 


Meanwhile  a very  different  scene  was  being  enacted  at  Dun- 
forth  Castle. 

As  soon  as  Lady  Ruxley's  carriage  was  driven  from  sight, 
Adrian  Dredmond  turned  to  his  grandfather,  saying,  gravely : 

•‘Can  I have  a private  interview  with  you,  sir  V' 

“Yes,  yes,  my  boy,  of  course;  come  into  my  sanctum  at 
once. '' 

He  led  the  way  to  the  luxuriously-appointed  library,  where  a 
cheerful  fire  in  the  grate  toned  the  chill  air  to  just  the  right  tem- 
perature, and  gave  the  lofty,  beautiful  room  an  appearance  of 
home-like  comfort. 

“Well,  now  what  is  it.  Ad  the  old  man  asked,  familiarly, 
as  he  threw  himself  into  his  easy-chair,  and  bent  a look  of  pride 
upon  the  young  lover's  handsome,  animated  face. 

Adrian  colored,  but  coming  to  the  point  at  once,  said  : 

“Sir,  I desire  your  permission  to  marry." 

“Bless  my  soul,  my  boy!  what's  this.?^"  and  he  sat  up  and 
stared  at  his  grandson  for  a moment,  as  if  he  had  never  thought 
of  such  a thing  before  in  connection  with  him. 

“Well,  well,"  he  added  the  next,  “you  took  me  rather  by* 
surprise,  that's  a fact;  but,  after  all,  you  couldn't  please  me 
better.  Aha  1 that  accounts  for  your  hurry  to  get  back  to  Lon- 
don, doesn't  it.?" 

“Yes — no,"  replied  Adrian,  somewhat  confused,  and  yet 
half-laughing  at  his  grandfather’s  comical  surprise  and  ready 
acquiescence  to  his  request. 

“Yes — no,"  repeated  his  lordship,  with  a merry  twinkle  in 
his  eye;  “that  is  rather  a doubtful  reply.  But,  seriously, 
Adrian,  my  boy,  nothing  would  give  me  greater  satisfaction  than 


310 


IS  NOT  BENBATN  MEN 


to  you  settled  in  life  ; and  I have  no  doubt  but  that  the  lady 
of  your  choice  is  in  every  way  desirable. '' 

'"She  is,  sir,  a perfect  lady,  highly  educated  and  accom- 
plished ; and  there  never  was,  in  my  opinion,  a more  beautiful 
Countess  of  Dunforth  than  she  will  make,''  returned  the  ardent 
lover,  who  felt  that  everything  was  progressing  finely. 

‘^Yes,  yes;  that  is  always  so  with  lovers.  I remember " 

What  he  remembered  he  did  not  say,  but  his  face  grew  wan 
and  sad  as  he  suddenly  checked  himself. 

Then  he  resumed,  more  gravely  : 

'‘The  lady  is  of  good  birth,  of  course.?" 

"Yes,  sir,  excellent,"  Adrian  returned,  recalling  what  his 
friend  Gordon  had  said  about  Miss  Mehetabel's  "family  tree." 
Then  he  added  : "But  misfortune  of  a very  serious  nature  has 
deprived  her  during  the  last  six  or  eight  months  of  all  her  prop- 
erty, and  death  of  her  last  friend." 

"That  is  bad,  truly,  my  boy  ; but  then  you  will  have  enough, 
and  to  spare,  and  I would  be  the  last  one  to  put  anything  in  the 
way  of  your  happiness  for  the  lack  of  filthy  lucre.  You  love  the 
lady,  of  course .?"  and  he  searched  the  noble  face  that  he  loved 
so  well. 

"As  my  own  life !"  Adrian  said,  earnestly. 

"Ah ! you  have  been  a sly  dog  to  get  so  far  as  this  and  we 
never  suspect  it  Who  is  the  fair  inamorata.?" 

"You  would  not  deem  it  anything  out  of  the  way,  I presume, 
sir,  if  a lady  of  good  birth  should  be  reduced  to  the  necessity 
of  becoming  a governess  or  a companion.?"  Adrian  asked, 
ignoring  the  question,  and  determined  to  lay  all  the  facts  before 
his  grandfather  before  telling  his  darling's  name. 


IS  NOT  BENEATH  MET  311 

''Zounds,  Adrian  ! has  it* been  so  bad  as  that  in  the  case  of 
your  lady-love?’' 

"Yes,  sir."  ^ 

"Then  the  quicker  you  marry  her,  and  relieve  her  dire  ne- 
cessity, the  better,"  his  lordship  said,  little  thinking  how  he  was 
committing  himself. 

"Thank  you.  Yes,  sir,  it  came  to  that,  as  I told  you,  some 
«ix  or  eight  months  ago." 

"But — what  is  this?  Why,  you  were  in  America  at  that 
rime,"  and  he  began  to  fidget  uneasily. 

"Yes,  sir;  I met  the  lady  in  America." 

"Ah,  ha!" 

This  time  Lord  Dunforth  scowled  disapprobation.  He  had 
the  English  prejudice  against  English  nobility  intermarrying 
with  American  plebeianism,  so  called. 

Adrian  noticed  his  look,  and  his  heart  sank. 

“My  lord,"  he  said,  "you  have  seen  the  lady,  and  acknowl- 
edged her  loveliness.  I heard  you  tell  Sir  Charles  that  she  was 
very  beautiful,  and  too  much  of  a lady  for  the  position  which 
she  occupies.  I assure  you,  and  I speak  advisedly,  that  she  is 
of  good  birth,  and  fitted  in  every  way  to  be  my  wife.  She  is 
companion  to  Lady  Ruxley.  Have  I still  your  permission  to 
marry  her  ?" 

His  lordship  stared  at  his  grandson  in  dismay. 

He  had,  indeed,  seen  Brownie,  and  marveled  at  her  loveli- 
ness and  gentle  breeding.  He  was  charmed  with  her  musical 
accomplishments,  and  had  conversed  for  ten  minutes  or  more 
with  her,  feeling  all  the  time  strangely  fascinated  in  her  pres- 
exice.  He  had  felt  a sort  of  sad  pity  for  the  beautiful  girl  in 


312 


^^SHE  IS  NOT  BENEATH  MET 


such  a position  as  companion  to  a crusty,  irritable  old  woman 
like  Lady  Ruxley,  and  he  would  gladly  have  befriended  her, 
helping  her  to  a higher  place  in  life  ; but  to  have  his  grandson, 
the  pride  of  his  heart,  the  one  on  whom  all  his  future  hopes 
depended,  marry  her,  was  not  the  way  he  would  have  taken  to 
do  it. 

^‘Miss  Dundas,  Adrian  T he  exclaimed,  aghast,  his  fine  face 
flushing  a deep  crimson. 

'^Miss  Douglas,  my  lord,''  corrected  Adrian,  somewhat 
proudly. 

His  lordship  did  not  notice  the  correction.  His  head  wa^ 
bent  in  deep  thought,  his  brow  was  knotted,  his  lips  compressed 
At  length,  looking  up,  he  said,  with  emotion  : 

“My  boy,  your  happiness  is  of  the  greatest  importance  to 
me,  and  has  always  been  my  first  consideration.  I know  what 
it  is  to  love  deeply,  and  the  anguish  which  follows  the  loss  of 
a loved  one," — his  voice  quivered  painfully.  “But,"  he 
added,  “it  is  better  to  give  up  an  unworthy  love  than  to  marry 
beneath  you,  and  then  repent  of  it  when  it  is  too  late. " 

“Sir,  the  lady  is  not  unworthy,  and  I shall  never  repent 
making  her  my  wife,"  Adrian  said,  indignantly,  then  continued, 
speaking  rapidly  : “I  told  you  that  she  descended  from  a highly 
respectable  family.  They  were  English,  too,  and  removed  to 
America  many  years  ago.  They  were  very  wealthy  at  that  time, 
but  a series  of  misfortunes  deprived  them  of  this.  I learned 
this  from  my  friend  Gordon,  whom,  you  remember,  I met  two 
years  ago  in  Germany.  He  vouched  for  her  respectability,  and 
told  me  he  had  seen  the  'family  tree,'  and  that  they  traced  bact 
their  ancestiy^  to  the  Scottish  nobility.  ” 


^^SHE  IS  NOT  BENEATH  ME. 


313 


‘‘But  it  must  be  very  remote.  Besides,  she  was  born  and 
reared  in  America,  and  has  not  a friend  living,  as  you  say,  to 
prove  her  respectability,  and  all  this  would  be  very  disagreeable 
to  establish.” 

“The  fact  that  / have  chosen  her  for  my  wife  would  be  suf- 
ficient to  establish  her  respectability  without  any  questioning, 
replied  Adrian,  proudly. 

“But  I want  you  to  have  an  English  wife,  Adrian — one  who 
will  fill  her  position  proudly  and  creditably.  ” 

‘ ‘ I am  as  eager  for  that,  my  lord,  as  you  can  possibly  be,  ” 
said  the  young  man,  with  a quiet  smile,  as  he  thought  how 
perfectly  Brownie  would  reign  in  those  grand  old  halls. 

“How  came  she  to  be  in  England  if  she  was  so  reduced  in 
circumstances.?” 

“She  came  over  as  governess  with  a family,  in  the  same 
steamer  with  myself.” 

“How  does  it  happen  that  they  did  not  retain  her — that  she 
left  them  to  be  companion  to  a woman  like  Lady  Ruxley  .?” 
demanded  his  lordship,  his  face  beginning  to  grow  stern  and  set. 

Adrian  colored  vividly.  He  knew  it  did  not  sound  well,  but 
he  was  truth  itself,  and  replied  : 

“She  was  ill-treated,  and  insulted — in  fact,  was  accused  of 
taking  that  which  did  not  belong  to  her.” 

“Enough,  sir!  No  person  with  any  such  record  can  ever 
become  allied  to  my  family!”  burst  forth  Lord  Ehinforth,  rising 
from  his  chair  in  wrath. 

“But,  sir,  let  me  explain ” 

“No,  SIR  !”  he  thundered;  “not  another  word  I I am  as- 
tonish^ and  disappointed  in  you,  Adrian,  that  you  could  so 


^^SHE  IS  NOT  BENEATH  MEN 


3^4 

demean  yourself  as  to  desire  to  marry  any  one  so  far 
you/' 

‘‘She  is  not  beneath  me,"  began  the  indignant  lover,  hotly. 

“Not  another  word,  Adrian,  if  you  please,  on  the  subject, 
unless  you  wish  to  incur  my  stern  displeasure.  You,  the  future 
Earl  of  Dunforth,  marry  a person  accused  of  theft ! Never  I'* 
and  he  paced  the  floor  with  angry  strides. 

Suddenly  he  wheeled  upon  his  grandson,  and  demanded : 

“May  I ask  have  you  made  proposals  to  this  very  estmabh 
person 

“I  have,  my  lord."  The  manly  eyes  blazed  danger::*dsly  at 
this  almost  insulting  question,  while  his  hands  worked  i><rvously 
at  the  biting  sarcasm  of  his  grandfather's  words. 

“Fool !" 

“Ar/" 

“You're  a fool,  I say." 

The  two  men  glanced  at  each  other  furiously  for  moment. 
Then  Adrian,  growing  very  pale,  moved  a step  or  two  back, 
and  said,  in  a quiet,  though  concentrated  voice  : 

“Then  I am  to  understand  that  you  refuse  your  consent  to 
my  marrying 

“I  do,  most  emphatically  refuse  to  allow  you  to  marry  any 
such  doubtful  person  as  Lady  Ruxley's  companion  apj’oars  to  be. 
Shame  upon  you  for  stooping  so  low  !" 

“Then,  my  Lord  Dunforth,  listen  to  me,"  Adrian  said, 
flushing  angrily,  and  drawing  his  proud  form  to  its  fullest  height 
“I  love  this  gentle  girl  with  my  whole  heart ; I have  told  hei 
so,  and  I have  asked  her  be  my  wife.  I am  of  age,  and-^ 
I shall  marry  herT 


<^SHE  IS  HOT  BENEATH  MET  315 

Lord  Duiiforth  suddenly  -w  heeled  about,  and  came  forward 
^ith  rapid  strides. 

The  two  proud  men  stood  looking  steadfastly  into  each 
other’s  eyes  for  a moment,  and  each  read  there  a determination 
never  to  yield. 

^‘Then  you  are  no  longer  a child  of  mine!”  whispered  the 
irate  lord,  hoarsely,  his  whole  frame  shaking  from  anger,  disap- 
pointment, and  mortification. 

Grandfather,”  returned  Adrian,  sadly,  ‘^you  know  I iove 
you,  and  would  gladly  do  anything  in  reason  to  please  you  ; 
but  the  happiness  of  two  lives  is  at  stake,  and  in  this  matter  I 
must  choose  for  myself.” 

There  was  a note  of  quiet  determination  in  his  voice,  albeit 
it  was  so  sad,  which  told  the  other  that  he  meant  every  word  he 
uttered. 

‘^Then  choose  for  yourself,  ” he  cried,  almost  beside  himself 
with  grief  and  mortified  pride,  ''and  choose  beggary  with  your 
wife,  for  not  one  shilling  from  the  Dunforth  coffers  shall  you 
ever  touch.” 

"But  I am  not  a beggar  quite  yet,  my  lord  ; I have  my  own 
income,”  returned  Adrian,  proudly,  yet  smiling  in  spite  of  him- 
self, for  his  income  was  no  mean  one. 

"Then  leave  me — begone  1” 

"Sir ” 

" Not  another  word,  unless  you  will  yield  to  me!”  shouted 
the  earl. 

''I  cannot  I” 

"Then  go!  marry  your  plebeian  beggar,  and  never  darken 
Dunforth’s  doors  again  !” 


3i6 


^^SHE  IS  NOT  BENE  AT//  MSB 


^■Is  that  your  ultimatum?  Have  you  no  sympathy  nor 
mercy?'"  asked  Adrian,  growing  very  white  about  the  mouth, 
though  his  eyes  gleamed  with  a lurid  light. 

His  lordship  caught  his  breath  hard  at  these  questions.  Who 
should  have  sympathy  if  not  he  ? But  he  would  not  yield. 

‘Htis  my  ultimatum.  I have  no  sympathy  with  anything 
like  that,"  he  said,  yet  the  face  of  his  own  lost  love  arose  before 
him  at  that  moment  like  a phantom. 

With  an  inclination  of  his  haughty  head,  Adrian  turned  and 
kft  the  room  without  another  word. 


CAME  YOU  HERE. 


317 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

‘‘how  came  you  here.” 

Lady  Ruxlcy  had  said  truly  that  Vallingham  Hall  was  full  of 
company,  and  as  Brownie,  who  sat  reading  to  her  ladyship  the 
next  morning  after  their  arrival,  caught  the  sound  of  fresh 
young  voices  and  silvery  laughter,  as  they  floated  up  through 
those  lofty  halls,  she  felt  her  own  heart  grow  warm  and  light, 
and  she  found  herself  longing  to  mingle  with  the  gay  company. 
Lady  Ruxley  had  tried  to  prevail  upon  her  to  go  down  the 
evening  previous  and  enjoy  the  music  and  dancing,  but  the 
thought  of  meeting  the  Coolidges  was  so  repugnant  to  her  that 
she  preferred  remaining  quietly  in  her  own  room,  although  it 
was  quite  a trial,  knowing  that  Viola  and  Alma  were  in  the 
same  house,  and  yet  not  be  able  to  see  them. 

Just  before  noon  Lady  Randal  came  bustling  in  in  great  haste, 
bearing  a great  box  in  her  hands. 

Auntie,” she  began,  affably,  “I  want  to  borrow  Miss  Dun- 
das  for  a little  while.  ” 

‘ ‘ What  for  demanded  the  old  lady,  sharply,  and  eying  the 
box  suspiciously. 

She  had  no  idea  of  having  the  young  girl  imposed  upon,  or 
made  to  perform  any  disagreeable  tasks  for  her  exacting  niece. 

“1  can't  find  an  operetta  which  I had  set  my  heart  upon 


3i8 


'^HOW  CAME  YOU  HERE,^ 


having  performed  at  the  soiree.  I thought  I could  put  my 
hand  upon  it  at  once,  but  I have  mislaid  it,  and  thought  it 
might  be  among  these  papers.  Charles  wants  me  immediately 
to  arrange  the  programme,  so  that  I have  not  time  to  look  for 
it  myself,  and  I thought  perhaps  Miss  Dundas  might  be  will- 
ing to  hunt  for  me.  Will  you.?’'  she  demanded,  turning  to 
Brownie. 

'‘Certainly,  if  Lady  Ruxley  has  no  objections,”  she  answered, 
quietly. 

"Well,  well,  child,  you’d  never  refuse,  no  matter  what  any- 
body asked  of  you.  Put  down  the  box,  Helen,  and  she  shall 
look  as  soon  as  she  has  finished  the  article  she  is  reading,”  Lady 
Ruxley  replied. 

Lady  Randal  obeyed. 

"While  you  see  about  it,  you  may  as  well  arrange  the  papers 
orderly — they  have  been  turned  over  so  many  times  that  they 
are  all  in  a muss,”  she  said,  and  then  left  the  room. 

Half  an  hour  after,  her  reading  finished,  she  took  the  box  to 
a large  table  standing  in  the  bay-window,  and  began  her  work. 

It  was  no  easy  task  to  put  that  promiscuous  assortment  in 
order. 

There  were  bills  of  all  kinds,  letters,  and  notes,  and  memo- 
randa, all  mixed  with  loose  papers  and  envelopes. 

She  at  length  succeeded  in  finding  the  operetta,  and  then  pro- 
ceeded to  arrange  and  tie  up  the  letters,  bills,  and  other  docu- 
ments, so  that  they  need  not  get  mixed  again. 

She  had  nearly  finished  her  task,  and  the  bundles  were  all 
jieatly  arranged  in  the  box,  when  taking  up  a small  package, 


^<H01V  CAME  YOU  HERE, 


319 


the  wrapper  suddenly  gave  way,  and  several  little  notes  and 
papers  fell  scattering  into  her  lap. 

They  were  directed  to  different  persons,  and  all  in  different 
handwriting,  and  Brownie  could  not  help  wondering  how  they 
happened  to  be  in  Lady  Randafs  possession. 

She  began  to  gather  them  up,  pondering  upon  the  singular 
circumstance,  yet  too  honorable  to  take  advantage  of  her  op- 
portunity and  gratify  her  curiosity,  when  her  eye  fell  upon  a 
note,  the  corner  of  which  had  been  doubled  back,  revealing 
the  writing  within. 

The  writing,  though  irregular,  as  if  a trembling  hand 
had  traced  it,  had  a strangely  familiar  look  as  she  glanced  at  it. 

It  had  been  written  with  a pencil,  and  was  not  very  distinct. 
Bending  closer.  Brownie  discovered  the  words  repentant 
Meta.'' 

A thrill  of  intense  pain  ran  through  every  nerve,  and  without 
stopping  to  consider  that  she  had  no  moral  right  to  do  so,  she 
unfolded  the  paper — it  was  yellow  and  old,  and  only  folded 
once— and  began  to  read. 

Scarce  had  her  eye  swept  over  the  few  words  written  within, 
when  every  vestige  of  color  faded  from  her  cheeks  and  lips, 
while  her  eyes  burned  with  a fierce,  vengeful  light. 

She  had  heard  of  that  little  note  before. 

How  well  she  remembered  the  pain  in  that  dear  old  face,  the 
quivering  of  those  sweet  pale  lips,  and  the  note  of  mortal 
anguish  in  the  loved  voice  which  had  told  her  of  this  little 
message  which  had  never  accomplished  its  mission. 

In  her  mind  she  went  back  nearly  fifty  years,  and  saw  a beau- 
tiful young  girl  lying  pale  and  sick  in  a lofty  rooni,  a deep  scat 


320 


CAME  YOU  HERE:' 


upon  her  fair  temple,  but  a deeper  pain  looking  forth  from  the 
sad  eyes,  as  she  watched  eagerly  for  the  sound  of  a footstep 
which  never  came. 

Yes,  it  was  the  very  note — that  anguished,  repentant  cry, 
which  Miss  Mehetabel  had  sent  from  the  depths  of  her  soul  to 
the  man  she  had  loved  ! 

'^Yes,  come  at  once,  if  you  can  forgive  your  repentant 

‘‘Meta."' 

How  well  she  remembered  the  words,  and  now  she  had  found 
them,  as  her  aunt  had  told  her,  in  the  possession  of  Helen 
Capel,  now  Lady  Randal. 

They  had  been  kept  back  from  the  honest,  faithful  lover,  who 
was  only  waiting  for  this  permission  to  fly  to  the  side  of  his  be- 
trothed and  comfort  her,  by  the  hand  of  this  treacherous  wo- 
man, who  had  thus  ruthlessly  wrecked  a human  life,  yea,  two 
lives  1 

How  strange.  Brownie  thought,  that  the  note  should  thus 
have  fallen  into  her  hands. 

Surely  there  is  Providence  in  it,''  she  murmured,  as  with 
one  swift  glance  to  see  that  Lady  Ruxley  was  not  observing 
her,  she  hid  it  in  her  bosom,  and  then  hurriedly  completed  her 
task. 

The  operetta  was  sent  to  Lady  Randal,  and  the  box  ol  p. 
pers  returned  to  their  accustomed  place,  but  all  day  h \ 
Brownie  felt  as  if  a mountain  was  crushing  her  heart,  with  tiia 
little  paper  lying  in  her  bosom. 

She  felt  she  could  not  breathe  in  the  same  house  and  under 
the  same  roof  which  sheltered  the  woman  who  had  deliberately 
planned  to  entrap  a young  and  guileless  girl  into  disgracing 


CAME  YOU  HERE:'^  3^1 

both  herself  and  her  lover,  that  she  might  separate  them  for- 
ever, hoping  to  win  him  for  herself 

She  wondered  if  Lady  Ruxley  knew  of  her  share  in  the  event, 
or  if  Lord  Dunforth  had  ever  found  it  out. 

Probably  not,  since  they  were  still  good  friends,  and  had  h« 
known  of  it,  he  could  not  have  forgiven  so  bitter  a wrong. 

The  more  she  thought  of  these  things  the  more  her  heart  re- 
belled against  them,  until  she  grew  so  restless  and  nervous  that 
she  nearly  cried  out  with  pain  whenever  any  one  spoke  to  her. 

About  four  o’clock,  finding  that  Lady  Ruxley  was  sleeping, 
she  stole  out,  thinking  to  get  away  into  the  sunshine  and  calm 
herself,  and  perhaps  Adrian  would  come  ere  long,  and  she 
could  share  her  burden  with  him  ; at  all  events,  he  would  com- 
fort her. 

She  opened  the  door  and  passed  noiselessly  out  into  the  hall. 

She  had  nearly  traversed  the  long  corridor  leading  to  the 
grand  staircase,  when  she  almost  ran  against  some  <mQ  who 
suddenly  came  out  of  a room  she  was  passing, 

“I  beg  your  pardon,''  Brownie  murmured,  and  then  looked 
up  to  see  who  it  was. 

it  was  none  other  than  Isabel  Coolidge  ! 

Instantly  the  two  girls  braced  themselves  for  the  encounter, 
and  looked  the  surprise  which  neither  of  them  for  the  moment 
could  speak. 

‘^Fou  here.?^"  Isabel  exclaimed  at  length,  growing  white, 
while  her  eyes  emitted  a lurid  light. 

‘‘Yes,  Miss  Coolidge,"  gently  replied  Brownie,  yet  with  liftec? 
eyebrows  and  a calm,  scornful  look  into  her  enemy's  face. 

“ How  came  you  her^ 


CAME  YOU  herm:^ 


$22 

- Pardon  me,  but  I have  neither  the  time  nor  the  inclina* 
tion  to  relate  the  train  of  circumstances  which  brought  me 
here,''  she  said,  coldly. 

“Insolence ! then  it  was  you  whom  I heard  singing  down  at 
Lady  Ruxley's  villa  the  other  day  1" 

“Doubtless,  since  I sing  to  her  ladyship  every  day." 

“ What  an  appreciative  listener  you  must  have  in  that  old 
erooked  back,"  sneered  Isabel. 

Brownie's  eyes  blazed  dangerously. 

“I  presume  Sir  Charles  Randal  would  be  much  edified  with 
Miss  Cool idge's  remark  regarding  his  aged  aunt,"  she  said. 

Isabel  looked  frightened  for  a minute,  then  replied,  with  a 
short  laugh  : 

“He  might  be,  if  he  should  hear  it,  that's  a fact.  Then 
you're  her  companion.  I remember  now  hearing  that  she  took 
a sudden  shine  to  a young  woman  whp  met  with  an  accident, 
and  would  have  her  stay  with  her.  You're  mighty  lucky  about 
getting  into  fine  places,  it  seems  to  me." 

A curl  of  those  beautiful  red  lips  was  all  the  satisfaction  she 
received  for  this  insulting  speech,  and  then  Brownie  made  as  if 
she  would  have  passed  on. 

“Wait,"  commanded  Isabel,  peremptorily,  and  laying  her 
hand  upon  the  young  girl's  shoulder. 

She  was  inwardly  boiling  with  rage  that  she  could  not  move 
or  bro\ybeat  the  haughty  governess. 

“Wait,"  she  repeated,  “I  have  not  done  with  you  yet." 

“Please  remove  your  hand  from  my  shoulder.  Miss  Cool- 
idge,"  Brownie  commanded,  in  tones  that  she  dare  not  dis- 
obey. 


CAME  YOU 


323 

^‘Mr.  Df^mond  called  upon  you  at  our  house  the  day  you 
left ; he  said  he  had  something  belonging  to  you  which  he  came 
to  return/'  she  went  on,  as  her  hand  fell  by  her  side,  and  droop- 
ing her  eyes  before  the  other's  indignant  gaze. 

She  was  very  curious  about  the  object  of  that  visit. 

‘‘I  know  it,"  replied  Brownie,  much  amused,  as  she  saw  that 
Isabel  was  almost  afraid  of  her  in  her  haughty  pride. 

‘ ‘ You  know  it?  How  Y 

‘‘Yes,  and  I have  my  property  back  again,"  and  she  deftly 
shifted  her  cuff,  bringing  the  glittering  button  upon  the  upper 
aade  of  her  sleeve. 

Miss  Coolidge  started  slightly  on  beholding  the  elegant  trifle. 

“Ah,  that  was  it,  then?  It  is  very  elegant,  isn't  it?  I pre- 
saime  it  belongs  with  the  collection  we  have  in  our  possession," 
the  said,  spitefully. 

‘ ‘ It  does.  Miss  Coolidge,  and  I will  thank  you  to  return  my 
property. " 

“When  you protJe  it  is  yours  I will." 

“ These  buttons  are  marked  with  my  name  on  the  back." 

“That  may  be ; you  have  had  plenty  of  time,  doubtless,  to 
get  them  marked,"  sneered  Isabel. 

“I  shall  compel  you  to  return  that  casket  to  me>"  retorted 
Brownie,  with  flashing  eyes. 

“Ha,  ha!  perhaps  you  will,  and  then  again  perhaps  you 
won't.  But  we  have  dicussed  that  subject  sufficiently  in  the 
past  When  did  you  see  Mr.  Dredmond?"  Isabel  asked,  inso- 
lently, and  noting  how  exquisitely  lovely  Brownie  had  grewn 
•inoe  she  saw  her  last. 


CAME  YOU  HERE,^ 

^‘Really,  Miss  Coolidge,  if  I remain  here  longer  I shall  losi 
my  walk,  and  that  I cannot  afford  to  do.” 

With  which  tantalizing  remark,  Brownie,  her  figure  proudly 
erect,  moved  down  the  corridor,  leaving  her  interlocutor  beau- 
tifully in  the  dark  as  to  how  or  when  she  had  seen  Mr.  Dred- 
mond. 

‘*I  suppose  you  thought  by  coming  down  here  you'd  have  a 
better  chance  to  practice  your  wiles  upon  that  young  gentle- 
man ; but,  mark  my  words,  you  won't  succeed,  for  I shall  feel 
it  my  duty  to  inform  Lady  Randal  of  the  very  suspicious  char- 
acter which  she  is  harboring,"  hissed  the  irate  girl  after  her. 

She  might  just  as  well  have  talked  to  the  winds,  for  Miss 
Douglas  never  gave  a sign  that  she  heard,  but  passing  swiftly 
down  the  stairs,  she  was  suddenly  greeted  with  joyful  exclama- 
tions, and  then  found  herself  encircled  by  two  pairs  of  arms, 
and  fresh,  dewy  lips  kissed  her  with  delight. 

Her  captors  were  Viola  and  Alma,  who  at  once  besieged  her 
with  questions,  until  she  laughingly  covered  the  mouth  of  each 
with  her  little  hands. 

''Rest  your  tongues  and  my  ears,  you  chatter-boxes,  and  come 
with  me,  and  you  shall  have  the  whole  history  of  my  proceed- 
ings," she  said,  gayly. 

Then,  suddenly  remembering,  she  grew  very  grave  and 
added  : 

"But  perhaps  your  mamma  would  object." 

"Let  her  object,  then,"  retorted  Viola,  undutifully.  "I 
know  you  are  as  good  as  an  angel,  and  it  would  be  better  for 
all  ©f  us  if  we  had  been  more  in  your  company,"  and  linking 


**H01V  CAME  YOU  HERE: 


325 


their  arms  within  hers,  they  bore  her  almost  forcibly  out  of  the 
hall  and  off  into  the  park. 

An  hour  passed  in  pleasant  chat,  during  which  Brownie  told 
Ihem  of  her  accident,  and  how  strangely  she  came  to  be  in  Lady 
Ruxley  s employ ; then  she  said  she  must  return,  and  left  the 
^delighted  girls,  promising  to  see  them  often  if  Mrs.  Coolidge 
offered  no  objections. 

As  she  entered  the  vestibule  she  heard  Isabel's  gay  laugh  in 
the  drav/ing-room,  and  heaved  a sigh  of  relief  that  she  should 
not  meet  her  again,  and,  speeding  up  the  stairs,  she  hastened 
toward  Lady  Ruxley  s apartments. 

As  she  passed  Isabel's  room  again,  she  saw  that  the  door  was 
open. 

Her  maid  had  gone  out  a few  moments  before,  had  carelessly 
left  it  standing  open,  and  was  now  in  the  servants'  hall  flirting 
with  the  butler's  assistant. 

Involuntarily  Brownie  paused  and  glanced  within,  and  her- 
heart  stood  still  as  her  eye  almost  instantly  caught  sight  of  her 
own  little  ebony  casket  standing  upon  the  elegant  dressing-case, 
its  tiny  key  in  the  lock,  with  the  delicate  chain  attached. 

Swift  as  light  the  impulse  came  upon  her  to  enter  and  seize 
it,  and  bear  it  away  to  her  own  room. 

She  glided  quickly  and  noiselessly  forward. 

There  was  no  one  in  the  corridor,  there  was  no  one  in  the 
room. 

She  crossed  the  threshold,  and  with  a few  fleet  steps  deared 
the  space  between  herself  and  her  treasures. 

She  lifted  the  lid. 


326 


CAME  YOU  HERE:^ 


All  were  there  in  their  glittering  beauty. 

She  closed  the  box  again,  turned  the  key  in  the  lock,  removed 
it,  and  fastened  the  chain  about  her  neck,  concealing  it  beneath 
the  folds  of  her  dress. 

The  next  moment  she  had  the  precious  casket  in  her  hands, 
and  turned,  to  find  herself  face  to  face  with  Mrs.  Coolidge. 


ENTRAPPED, 


327 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

ENTRAPPED. 

Thief!"  hissed  the  woman,  under  her  breath,  '"How 
dars  you  ? Where  did  you  come  from  ?" 

She  had  not  seen  Isabel  since  her  encounter  with  Brownie, 
thetefore  did  not  know  until  that  moment  of  her  proximity. 

She  had  come  out  of  her  own  room  just  as  Miss  Douglas 
entered  Isabel’s,  and  seeing  the  door  open,  glanced  in  as 
Brownie  had  done. 

She  recognized  Miss  Douglas  in  an  instant,  and  compre« 
hended  at  once  her  object  there. 

She  glided  in  noiselessly,  hoping  to  come  upon  her  unawares, 
and  wrest  the  casket  from  her  without  much  trouble,  but  the 
girl  turned  just  in  season  to  confront  her. 

Brownie  herself  grew  pale  at  this  unexpected  encounter,  but 
clutching  her  recovered  property  firmly  in  her  hands,  she  held 
herself  proudly  at  bay. 

""You  are  the  thief,  madam — you  and  your  daughter,"  sh« 
said,  haughtily. 

"‘Liar ! Put  that  box  down  I" 

""I  shall  not,  madam  1" 

""Then  I will  ring  and  have  you  arrested.  I know  not  how 
you  happen  to  be  here — I devoutly  hoped  you  would  never 


328 


ENTRAPPED. 


cross  our  path  again  ; but  fate  seems  to  decree  that  you  turn  up 
as  a marplot  wherever  we  go.  Will  you  put  that  box  down,  or 
shall  I ring.?”  and  the  angry  woman  grasped  the  bell-pull 
vigorously. 

Brownie  never  relaxed  a muscle,  except  that  the  proud  lips 
curled  into  a scornful  smile. 

“You  can  ring  the  bell  if  you  choose,  Mrs.  Coolidge.” 

“Have  you  no  fear  of  the  consequences  her  enemy  asked, 
eying  her  wonderingly,  and  her  lips  twitching  with  wrath. 

“None!” 

“ But  you  will  have  to  face  this  whole  household.” 

“ Gather  the  whole  household  here  if  you  will,  and  have  the 
facts  regarding  this  property  brought  to  light ; also  the  way  in 
which  you  became  possessed  of  it.  Methinks  Sir  Charles  Ran- 
lial  would  not  be  pleased  to  know  that  his  betrothed  wife 
.Atc^ed  the  room  of  another,  made  a Paul  Pry  of  herself,  and 
purloined  such  things  as  these.  ” 

Mrs.  Coolidge  winced  at  her  words,  and  she  could  have 
trampled  her  under  foot  for  her  scorn  and  fearlessness.  1 

“You  are  insolent,  Miss  Douglas,”  she  breathed,  in  sup- 
pressed, wrathful  tones. 

“Insolent  or  not,  I only  speak  plain  truth;  and  I shall  not 
yield  up  this  casket  unless  personal  violence  is  used  to  wrest  it 
from  me,”  Brownie  answered,  with  calm  dignity. 

“You  are  cool,  truly,”  sneered  the  woman,  exasperated  by 
her  manner  more  than  by  her  words,  and  as  desirous  of  create 
ing  no  disturbance  as  Brownie  herself  could  be. 

“Yes,  I am  cool.  This  box  is  mincy  I tell  you,  and  this 
much  I will  say,  if  you  persist  in  disputing  my  right  to  it  and* 


ENTRAPPED, 


m 

its  contents,  I have  only  to  appeal  to  a certain  nobleman  of  the 
xalm  to  substantiate  my  claim  and  protect  me  from  your  abuse,'' 
Brownie  said,  suddenly  resolving  to  appeal  to  Lord  Dunforth  if 
?vLs.  Coolidge  persisted  in  her  abuse. 

‘ ‘ A nobleman  of  the  realm  ! You  /" 

Intense  scorn  was  breathed  in  these  few  words. 

‘‘Yes,  madam,  //  I have  but  to  tell  my  story  of  the©€ 
jewels  to  prove  that  they  belong  to  me,  and  reveal  your  wicked- 
ness to  those  whom  you  do  not  care  to  have  know  it. " 

“Pray,  why  did  you  not  make  this  appeal  in  the  first  place.?" 
queried  Mrs.  Coolidge,  skeptically. 

“Because  I did  not  know  then  if  he  were  living.  I have 
since  discovered  that  he  is.  Now,  as  I have  no  desire  to  pro- 
long this  interview  further,  I will  wish  you  good-day." 

Brownie  took  a step  toward  the  door,  but  her  enemy,  ren- 
dered desperate  by  her  undaunted  bearing,  and  the  fearful  con- 
sequences which  would  result,  if  Isabel  should  thus  suddenly 
be  deprived  of  wearing  the  jewels,  darted  before  her,  shut  the 
door,  locking  it,  and  put  the  key  in  her  pocket. 

“There  ! we  will  see  who  will  win  in  this  little  game,  Miss 
Douglas, " she  said,  between  her  teeth,  while  there  was  a dan- 
; {^erous  gleam  in  her  eye.  “You  do  not  leave  this  room,"  she 
added,  “until  you  give  up  that  casket.  How  do  you  suppose 
i Isabel  will  account  for  the  disappearance  of  all  her  elegant 
jewels,  which  have  been  so  much  admired  ?" 

‘ ‘ Madam,  truth  is  a virtue  which  is  safe  always  to  cultivate, " 

‘ Brownie  answered,  with  quiet  sarcasm. 

; Mrs.  Coolidge  sighed  in  despair. 

' What  sbouV  with  this  brave,  proud  girl  t 


E^rrkApPEB. 


She  utterly  baffled  her ; while  she  was  so  cool,  so  haughty,  so 
beautiful,  standing  so  fearless  there,  with  her  jewels  closely 
clasped  in  her  arms,  that  she  became  enraged  beyond  endur- 
ance. 

‘'Will  you  give  me  that,  once  for  all,  I ask  you  T'  she  whis- 
pered, hoarsely,  with  livid  face,  and  a deadly  light  in  her  light 
blue  eyes. 

"/  will  notr  and  the  beautiful  brown  eyes  met  hers  fear- 
lessly, defiantly. 

Mrs.  Coolidge  took  a few  steps  forward  as  if  impelled  by 
some  hidden  force,  hesitated,  bent  her  head  a moment  in 
thought,  while  an  evil  smile  flitted  over  her  hard  features. 

Then  assuming  a more  conciliatory  tone,  she  said  : 

"Really,  Miss  Douglas,  you  are  so  persistent,  and  so  posi- 
tive, that  you  almost  persuade  me  into  the  belief  that  the  jewels 
are  yours  after  all.'' 

Brownie  made  no  reply  to  this  concession,  but  stood  quietly 
regarding  her  enemy. 

"Come  into  my  room  and  let  us  talk  the  matter  over  quietly/' 
the  wily  woman  added,  flashing  a cunning  look  at  the  young 
girl  from  her  half-closed  eyes.  "T  think  we  can  come  to  a 
better  understanding,  and  I have  a proposition  to  make  to  you. ' 

Brownie  felt  somewhat  suspicious  of  this  smooth  talk,  and 
jfeared  that  the  sudden  change  in  Mrs.  Coolidge's  manner  was 
only  assumed  for  some  hidden  purpose ; yet  she  thought  it  might 
be  better  to  temporize  with  her,  and  it  would,  perhaps,  save 
publicity. 

She  could  not  leave  the  room,  as  things  were,  without  making 
a disturbanf'e.  for  the  door  was  locked,  the  key  in  the  woman's 


BNTRAPPEB, 


5SI 


pocket,  and  she  knew  of  no  other  means  of  egress,  although 
there  were  several  arches  in  the  spacious  apartment,  hung  with 
draperies,  which  she  thought  must  conceal  entrances  to  some 
other  portion  of  the  house. 

'‘I  do  not  know  what  better  understanding  you  may  wish 
for,’’  she  replied,  coldly.  '‘Your  daughter  took  this  box  frora 
my  room,  and  I have  told  you  repeatedly  that  it  and  its  contents 
belong  to  me,  and  you  know  as  well  as  I,  Mrs.  Coolidge,  that 
any  judge  would  decide  in  my  favor  should  the  case  be  brought 
into  court.  But  we  can  talk  it  over  here  as  well  as  anywhere.” 

Then  why  did  you  come  sneaking  into  this  room  like  a 
thief  to  get  them } Why  didnt  you  take  the  matter  into  court 
and  let  the  judge  decide  in  your  favor sneered  the  exasperated 
woman,  almost  losing  her  self-control  again  under  Brownie’s 
coolness,  and  her  refusal  to  go  with  her. 

"I  did  not  sneak  into  the  room  like  a thief,  madam.  I was 
passing  along  the  corridor,  the  door  was  open,  and  glancing  in, 
I saw  my  casket  upon  the  table,  I entered,  and  took  it,  intend- 
ing to  inform  Miss  Coolidge  of  the  fact  as  soon  as  I had  it 
beyond  her  reach.  ” 

“You  say  you  can  prove  your  claim.  Who  is  this  nobleman 
who  knows  so  much  about  these  jewels.?”  asked  Mrs,  Coolidge^ 
with  sudden  interest. 

Brownie  thought  a moment  before  answering. 

She  disliked  to  implicate  his  lordship  in  the  matter  if  she 
could  possibly  help  it;  but  she  saw  that  Mrs.  Coolidge  was 
desperate  about  the  jewels,  and,  perhaps,  the  power  of  his  name 
might  frighten  her  into  letting  them  go,  and  the  matter  would 
drop  there,  so  she  said  : 


3S2 


ENTRAFPED, 


‘‘It  is  Lord  Dunforth ! 

‘‘Lord  Dunforth!''  she  exclaimed,  with  a violent  start  of 
surprise. 

Then  she  suddenly  remembered,  with  a thrill  that  made  her , 
feel  faint,  Isabel's  account  of  her  strange  interview  with  hia : 
lordship  at  Lady  Peasewell’s,  and  she  began  to  fear  that  sh  :-  ^ 
was  getting  beyond  her  depth  in  this  matter ; and  yet  this  very  | 
revelation  made  her  more  determined  than  ever  to  keep  the  j 
jewels,  at  least  until  after  Isabel's  marriage ; for  their  absence  ] 

I 

would  occasion  a great  hue  and  ciy,  and  necessitate  such  awk- 
ward explanations  that  Sir  Charles  would  mistrust  something 
wrong,  and  then  all  their  plans  would  be  ruined,  for  he  had 
only  that  day  named  the  wedding-day.  Yet,  if  she  resorted  to 
force  to  keep  them.  Brownie,  on  the  other  hand,  would  instantly 
take  active  measures  to  recover  them,  and  if  she  could,  as  she 
said,  prove  througn  Lord  Dunforth  that  they  were  hers,  they 
would  immediately  be  brought  into  open  disgrace.  Whichever 
way  she  turned,  it  looked  dark. 

There  was  only  one  way  of  escape  from  this  threatening 
danger,  and  that  was  very  hazardous ; but  she  had  resolved 
from  the  first,  if  worse  came  to  worst,  that  she  would  try  it,  anJ 
that  was  why  she  appeared  so  anxious  to  get  her  into  her  rooms. 

She  stood  measuring  her  strength  against  Brownie's,  while 
these  thoughts  passed  through  her  mind,  and  that  same  cud 
ning  gleam  lurked  in  her  eyes  as  before. 

“Lord  Dunforth  I"  she  repeated.  “Do  you  know  him  ?" 

“No,  madam;  at  least  not  well  enough  to  claim  his  a®- 
quaintance  and  protection,  except  in  case  of  stem  necessity ; 


KI^RAPPEP, 


333 


but  he  knows  all  about  these  jewels,  and  when  I told  mj  story 
he  would  know  that  I spoke  the  truth. 

How  would  he  know  it.?  When  did  he  ever  see  those 
jewels  before  he  saw  Isabel  wear  them.?”  the  woman  asked 
inquisitively,  and  burning  with  a desire  to  know  more  about 
them  herself. 

“Madam,”  Brownie  answered,  haughtily,  “I  decline  an- 
swering any  more  questions.  I insist  that  you  let  me  go 
I quietly;  you  can  then  make  whatever  explanation  regarding 
jthe  absence  of  these  gems  you  may  see  fit.  But  if  you  persisi 
jin  giving  me  further  trouble,  I shall  immediately  make  the 
I whole  matter  public,  and  doubtless  j/ou  know  what  the  conse- 
Iquences  will  be.” 

' Mrs.  Coolidge's  eyes  flashed,  and  the  young  girl  catching  their 
igleam  at  that  instant  involuntarily  shivered,  they  looked  so  evil. 

“My  dear  Miss  Douglas,”  she  began,  politely,  after  a mo- 
jment,  “can  we  not  temporize  in  this  matter.?  You  know  if 
jlsabel  ceases  suddenly  to  wear  those  jewels  it  is  going  to  makf 
matters  very  awkward  for  her.  Could  you  not  be  persuaded  for 
ja  handsome  consideration  to  loan  them  to  her  until  after  her 
marriage,  which  will  be  in  a little  more  than  a month .?” 

Brownie  s lips  curled  with  scorn  at  this  proposition.  The 
jwoman  who  could  make  it  under  the  existing  circumstances 
|seemed  so  little  and  small  of  soul  to  her. 

] “No,  madam;  I think  I have  loaned  them  long  enough 

'i 

Salready,”  was  her  quiet  but  scathing  reply. 

The  angry  woman's  lips  twitched  nervously,  and  her  hands 
were  clenched  with  passion  that  this  poor,  friendless  girl  should 
iare  to  thwart  her  so — that  she  should  dare  to  stand  so  proudly. 


334 


ENTRAPPED. 


defiantly  before  her,  and  fling  out  so  coolly  her  scathing 
easms.  She  grew  white  as  the  delicate  lace  at  her  throat,  and 
her  eyes  burned  with  a lurid  light  which  boded  mischief  I 

*‘Hark''  she  said,  suddenly.  ^‘Somebody  is  coming.  It 
aay  be  Isabel,  and  we  shall  have  a scene.  Come  into  my 
room  and  I will  let  you  out  through  there/" 

She  walked  swiftly  across  the  room,  seemingly  much  dis-  i 
tnrbed,  although  Brownie  had  caught  no  sound  of  any  on«  ‘ 
approaching.  ' 

She  pushed  aside  some  hangings  and  revealed  a narr^-  ^oor. 
Brownie  wondered  that  such  a narrow,  peculiar  door  should 
fonnect  two  elegant  rooms,  but  she  reasoned  that  this  must  be 
part  of  the  original  castle,  and  that  all  these  elegant  han^ngs 
had  been  put  up  to  conceal  the  awkward  doors. 

Before  opening  it,  Mrs.  Coolidge  shoved  a heavy  bolt  (an- 
other circumstance  which  struck  Brownie  as  singular),  and 
opening  the  door,  revealed  a small,  square  room  or  passage, 
dimly  lighted  by  a dormer  window  set  high  in  the  stone  walk 
The  place  was  perfectly  bare,  and  there  was  a damp,  uncanny 
feeling  in  the  atmosphere,  as  if  it  had  not  been  opened  befbro 
in  a long  while. 

Brownie  involuntarily  drew  back  as  she  reached  the  door, 
and  again  glanced  suspiciously  at  her  companion. 

Mrs.  Coolidge,  who  was  watching  her  prey  with  the  interU- 
ness  of  a cat  watching  a mouse,  noticed  her  hesitation,  and, 
with  a light  laugh,  said  : 

‘ ^ It  isn't  a very  nice  way  to  take  you,  Miss  Douglas,  but  it 
saves  going  through  the  corridor,  and  I would  not  have  Isabel 
meet  you  now,  with  that  casket  in  your  hands,  for  the  world 


ENTRAPPED. 


535 


My  foom  is  at  the  end  of  this  passage,  and  we  use  it  when  w^e 
want  to  run  back  and  forth.  I do  not  think  it  can  have  been 
used  much  of  late  years,  for  it  is  so  damp  and  full  of  cobwebs ; 
|l)Ut  I discovered  it  while  gratifying  my  Yankee  curiosity  to  find 
but  what  was  underneath  all  these  hangings,  and  we  have  found 
it  very  convenient,  I assure  you.  Come  on  ; Til  go  forward 
und  open  the  door  at  die  other  end  of  the  passage,  and  then 
you  will  see  better. 

She  half  crossed  the  dimly-lighted  space,  and  Brownie  fol- 
towed  considerably  reassured  by  her  fluent  explanation,  although 
even  then  she  thought  it  strange  that  the  door  should  have  been 
holted  if  the  passage  was  ^‘so  convenient/" 

Suddenly  Mrs.  Coolidge  stopped  with  a startled  look. 

‘‘Did  you  not  hear  some  one  at  the  door?""  she  whispered. 

“No;  I heard  nothing,""  Brownie  replied,  yet  bending  her 
head  to  listen. 

“There  is  surely  some  one  there,""  persisted  Mrs.  Coolidge. 
“I  forgot  to  unlock  Isabe/s  door,  and  the  key  is  in  my  pocket. 
Wait  just  a moment  while  I go  and  unfasten  it. "" 

She  glided  swiftly  by  the  young  girl,  holding  her  breath  and 
Watching  her  narrowly^with  her  basilisk  eyes,  passed  through 
the  narrow  door,  drew  it  hastily  after  her,  and  shoved  the  bolt, 
leaving  the  astonished  and  dismayed  girl  a close  prisoner  in 
ihat  dismal  cell. 

All  too  late  Brownie  saw  how  she  had  been  fooled  and  en- 
•^pped,  and  berated  herself  soundly  for  having  trusted  the 
faithless  woman  for  an  instant 

After  the  first  surprise  was  over,  she  looked  about  het  lo 
measure  the  dimensions  of  her  prisau. 


33^ 


ENTRAPPEDi 


It  could  not  have  been  more  than  eight  feet  by  six,  a«td  wa^ 
lighted  only  by  that  one  small  window  set  so  high  in  the  wall 
that  it  was  impossible  to  look  out.  There  was  no  sign  of  any 
other  door  or  mode  of  egress  that  she  could  discover,  only  the 
bare  damp  walls  of  solid  stone. 

There  was  not  an  article  of  furniture  in  the  place,  and  Brownie 
groped  her  way  to  the  wall,  leaning  against  it  for  support,  for 
she  was  excited  and  trembling  at  finding  herself  so  cleverly 
entrapped  and  shut  up  from  the  light  ®f  day. 

‘T  suppose  she  thinks  to  frighten  me  into  submission  by 
shutting  me  up  like  a naughty  child,''  she  said,  with  curling 
lips  and  flashing  eyes.  ‘^But  she  will  find  she  has  ^ reckoned ' 
without  her  host,'  for  only  a stronger  than  I shall  ever  get  these ' 
precious  jewels  away  from  me  again.  Oh,  auntie,"  she  added, . 
a moment  after,  ‘‘you  little  knew  what  a troublesome  legacy ' 
you  were  giving  me;  were  they  not  sacred  to  me  on  your  ac- 
count they  are  not  worth  all  this  trouble  and  contention.  But 
the^  shill  not  have  them  now." 

She  walked  to  the  door  and  rapped  upon  it. 

“Mrs.  Coolidge/'  she  said,  in  cold,  stern  tones,  “if  you ' 
think  to  subdue  me  thus,  and  gain  your  end,  you  are  very 
'iiuch  mistaken  in  my  character,  and  I warn  you  that  you  are 
nly  heaping  up  wrath  for  yourself." 

There  was  no  answer,  and  Brownie  finally  concluded  that 
the  only  thing  she  could  do  for  the  present  was  to  exercise 
abundant  patience  and  wait. 

She  had  not  a thought  of  fear,  however,  that  the  wicked 
woman  would  dare  to  keep  her  there  long ; her  whole  soul — ^ 
all  the  Douglas  blood  in  her  veins  rose  up  in  rebellion  against 


ENTRAPPED, 


Ais  arbitrary  act,  and  she  resolved  that  the  future  should  h®14 
for  her  jailer  a reckoning  full  of  retribution. 

When  Mrs.  Coolidge  had  accomplished  her  piece  of  diaboli- 
cal treachery,  and  the  door  was  bolted  upon  her  prisoner,  she 
sank  down  upon  a chair  nearly  fainting. 

It  was  a bold  thing  to  do,  and  fraught  with  danger,  but  the 
deed  was  done,  and  nothing  remained  now  but  for  her  to  carry 
out  ber  designs  with  a high  hand. 

Her  plan  was  to  keep  Brownie  shut  up  until  overcome  with 
fatigue  she  should  fall  asleep,  when  she  would  enter  the  cell 
and  steal  the  jewels  from  her  again. 

If  she  could  not  catch  her  asleep,  she  thought  that  she  and 
Isabel  together  might  be  able  to  accomplish  their  designs  by 
force ; for  have  the  jewels  and  keep  them  until  after  the  wedding 
they  must  at  all  hazards,  and  if  the  girl  would  not  promise  to 
keep  still  about  the  matter  until  then,  they  could  keep  her  shut 
up  until  Isabel  was  Lady  Randal,  for  she  did  nor  believe  any 
one  would  mistrust  that  she  was  concealed  in  that  place. 

However,  she  had  not  much  doubt  but  that  she  would  yield 
to  her  terms,  and  she  smiled  derisively  when  Brownie  came  to 
the  door  and  spoke  so  decidedly. 

She  had  lied  to  her  about  the  passage,  for  it  did  not  connect 
with  anything  that  she  could  discover,  and  she  could  not  con- 
ceive what  such  a dismal  place  had  ever  been  built  for — her 
Yankee  curiosity  on  that  score  was  still  quite  lively,  and  not 
likely  to  be  gratified  either.  She  had  never  thought  of  putting 
the  place  to  any  such  purpose,  until  suddenly  inspired  to  do  so 
by  Brownie’s  cojI  defiance,  and  the  thought  that  only  despera4» 
measures  would  serve  to  regain  the  jewels. 


IVIM.  BARR  ANYTHim^.^* 


CHAPTER  XXXL 

'*1  WILL  DARE  ANYTHING." 

Not  long  after  Mrs.  Coolidge  heard  Isabel's  voico  ha  ^ 
hall. 

Hastily  rising,  she  went  to  the  door,  unlocked  it,  though  hei 
hands  trembled  so  that  it  was  with  difficulty  that  she  inserted 
the  key  in  the  lock. 

With  her  fingers  upon  her  lips,  she  beckoned  her  daughtei 
to  come  in. 

''Good  gracious,  mamma  ! what  is  the  matter.?  You  are  as 
white  as  a ghost !"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  entered. 

"Hush  ! Come  in  quick,  and  lock  the  door  again ; than  I 
wfll  tell  you." 

Isabel  obeyed,  and  then  Mrs.  Coolidge  related  all  that  had 
transpired  during  the  last  half  hour. 

"Confound  the  girl ! I had  a wrangle  with  her  myself  just 
a little  while  before, " Isabel  exclaimed,  angrily. 

"Don't,  dear,  use  such  language;  you  will  forget  yourself 
to  your  sorrow  some  day.  What  if  Sir  Charles  or  Lady  Randal 
should  hear  ymi  !'' 

"I  can't  help  it,  mamma ; it  does  try  my  patience  so  to  hav^ 
her  turn  up  just  now,  when  eveiy^thing  is  going  so  lowely.” 

"How  do  you  suppose  she  hapj>en€d  to  be  here?"  asked  Mrs. 
Coolidge,  to  whom  the  matter  was  still  a mystery. 


“/  WILL  DARE  ANYTHING/ 


^'Oh,  she  is  that  Miss  Dundas  who  is  companion  to  Lady  Rux- 
ley.  Since  I met  her,  a couple  of  hours  ago,  I have  been  making 
some  judicious  inquiries,  and  it  seems  that,  instead  of  going  to 
the  Washington  Hotel  after  leaving  us,  as  she  told  Wilbur  she 
intended  to  do,  she  got  tipped  over  in  front  of  Lady  Randal's 
town  house,  broke  her  arm,  and  made  such  an  impression  upon 
Lady  Ruxley  that  she  insisted  upon  taking  care  of  her;  and 
finally  nothing  would  do  but  she  must  have  her  for  a compan- 
ion. You  know  I told  you  that  I saw  some  one  at  the  villa 
when  we  first  came  here  who  looked  like  Miss  Douglas,  and  I 
got  quite  a fright  over  it  until  Lady  Randal  told  me  her  name 
was  Mabel  Dundas,  and  that  deceived  me. " 

is  very  unfortunate  just  now,  to  say  the  least,  when  we 
are  so  anxious  to  have  everything  go  smooth,"  complained  her 
mother,  wearily. 

‘^That  is  so,"  returned  Isabel,  with  scowling  brow.  '‘You 
say  she  still  has  the  casket  in  there  with  her.?" 

"Yes." 

"Why  under  the  sun  didn't  you  take  it  away  from  her  by 
main  force .?" 

"Because  she  was  so  haughty  and  defiant  I did  not  dare 
touch  her,"  Mrs.  Coolidge  admitted,  vdth  rather  a crest-fallen 
ail'. 

"I  know  she  has  a terrible  high  and  mighty  way  wdth  her,  if 
she  is  little. " 

"Yes,  indeed,  she  has.  You'd  have  thought  her  a queen  if 
you  could  have  seen  her  look  at  me,  and  tell  me  to  call  the 
whole  house,  and  make  the  matter  public,  if  I chose.  Beside«, 
she  told  me  she  should  appeal  to  Lord  Dunforth  if  I did  not 


340 


“/  WILL  DARE  anything:^ 


let  her  go  quietly ; and  I knew,  after  what  you  had  told  me, 
that  that  would  never  do. 

‘‘No,  indeed;  it  is  very  evident  that  he  knows  too  much 
about  the  jewels,  while  we  know  too  little.  But  how  are  we 
going  to  get  out  of  this  abominable  muss,  anyhow?"'  and  Isabel 
looked  rniserably  anxious. 

“Keep  her  in  there  until  she  gives  up  the  box  and  promises 
secrecy,"  returned  her  mother,  with  a significant  nod  at  the 
vailed  door. 

“Well,  suppose  she  will  not  yield  at  all?" 

“She  must  sleep,  at  all  events;  and  if  we  cannot  catch  her 
in  2 natural  sleep,  there  are  things  that  will  make  her  unconscious, 
and  then  we  can  take  the  jewels  away  from  her,"  was  the  whis* 
pered  reply. 

“ But  she  will  be  missed  meanwhile." 

“Well,  we  must  wonder  with  the  rest  what  has  become  of 
her.  I am  confident  no  one  saw  her  come  in  here,  and  so  no 
one  will  suspect  us  in  the  matter.  I tell  you,  Isabel,  we  have  a 
desperate  game  to  play  now,  or  you  will  lose  Sir  Charles. 
Those  jewels  we  must  have,  for  their  absence  will  occasion  end- 
less inquiry  and  remark.  If  she  won't  yield,  we  must  keep  her 
shut  up  until  after  the  wedding.  When  that  is  over,  and  you 
are  sure  of  your  position,  I do  not  care  what  becomes  of  then 
or  her,"  the  proud  woman  whispered,  in  concentrated  tones, 
uid  with  a desperate  and  reckless  air  that  almo«t  frightened  hei 
laughter. 

■ ‘ Mamma,  would  you  dare  keep  her  in  there  so  long.^" 

Yea,  I will  dare  anything,  rather  than  that  all  your  bright 


*‘7  WILL  DAKE  ANYTHING. 


prospects  should  be  sacrinced.  Just  so  sure  as  we  let  her  out, 
she  will  reveal  Everything,  and  we  shall  be  ruined.  ” 

‘‘But  you  know  we  are  all  to  go  to  Paris  next  week,  to  be 
gone  a fortnight,  and  attend  to  my  trousseau.  ' 

“ I know  it  was  so  arranged,  but  you  and  Lady  Randal  will 
have  to  go — I shall  be  ill  and  not  able  to  go ; then  I can  easily 
look  after  our  prisoner,  and  no  one  will  be  the  wiser  for  it 
“ But  is  there  no  danger  that  she  will  be  heard  if  she  should 
scream,  or  cry,  or  make  a fuss?"' 

“Not  the  least  in  the  world.  The  place  seems  to  be  made 
of  solid  masonry ; it  has  no  other  door  but  this,  which  is  very 
thick,  and  with  those  heavy  curtains  dropped  over  it,  no  one 
could  ever  hear  her.  Besides,  I have  no  fear  that  she  will  make 
any  disturbance — she  is  too  proud. '' 

“What  if  she  should  die  in  there,  mamma?'' 

The  two  plotting  w'omen  looked  at  each  other  with  whitening 
feces  for  a moment. 

Mrs.  Coolidge  was  the  first  to  recover  herself,  however. 
“Pshaw!  what  a foolish  notion,  Isabel.  She  is  strong  and 
w^ll,  and  there  is  no  danger.  I will  take  her  plenty  of  good 
food  every  day,  and  we  can  make  her  up  a comfortable  bed 
from  our  own,  and  she  will  do  well  enough." 

“But,  mamma,  the  bare  possibility  of  the  thing  gives  me  a 
dreadful  feeling.  I am  as  weak  as  if  I had  just  recovered  from 
a swoon,"  said  Isabel,  shuddering. 

“Don't  be  a fool,  child ; only  let  us  tide  the  next  four  or  five 
weeks  over,  and  we  shall  be  all  right.  However,  if  you  say  so, 
and  are  willing  to  run  the  risk,  we  will  let  her  out  now,"  re' 
turned  Mrs.  Coolidge,  impatiently. 


142 


WILL  DARE  anything:^ 

‘‘No,  no,  there  is  no  other  way  as  I see  but  to  keep  her  shut 
up.  Sir  Charles  is  so  particular  and  conscientious  that  he 
would  never  forgive  the  wrong  we  have  done  her,  and,  mamma, 
I am  really  very  fond  of  him.  I believe  it  would  upset  me  en- 
tirely if  anything  should  happen  to  separate  us  now,  and  I mean 
to  try  and  be  a better  woman  after  I am  married,  ” Isabel  re- 
turned, nervously,  and  with  very  crimson  cheeks,  as  if  ashamed 
of  the  confession. 

“ I think  you  might  improve  some  myself,''  was  the  not  very 
soothing  reply;  “and  I do  hope  you'll  let  other  folks'  trunks 
and  boxes  alone  in  the  future. " 

“I  begin  to  wish  I'd  never  touched  those  jewels — they  have 
l^iven  me  more  trouble  than  pleasure,"  Isabel  said,  gloomily. 

“I  told  you  it  would  be  so  in  the  first  place,"  retorted  her 
mother,  who  was  also  feeling  the  stings  of  conscience  pretty 
sharply,  and  could  not  restrain  her  irritability. 

‘ ‘ Well,  well,  it  is  too  late  now  for  recriminations,  but  I do 
wish  the  next  six  weeks  were  well  over  with, " muttered  the  girl, 
uneasily. 

An  hour  later  Lady  Ruxley's  bell  rang  a furious  peal.  It 
had  been  nearly  three  hours  since  Brownie  left  her.  Such  a 
thing  had  never  happened  before,  and  she  did  not  know  what 
to  make  of  it.  She  was  getting  so  attached  to  her  gentle  and 
lovable  companion  that  she  missed  her  sadly  if  she  were  absent 
wi  hour. 

“Like  as  not  Helen  has  set  her  about  some  task  or  other, 
but  ril  not  have  it — she  shan't  be  imposed  upon,"  sjie  mntr 
t^ed  to  herself  as  she  clumped  about  the  room  with  her 


**/  WiLi.  DARE  anything: 


343 


glancing  first  from  one  window  and  then  another  to  see  if 
Brownie  was  coming. 

Presently  Minnett  came  in. 

‘^Minnett,  find  Miss  Dundas,  and  ask  her  to  please  come  to 
me/'  she  said,  shortly. 

Minnett  retired,  was  gone  another  half  hour,  while  the  old 
lady  grew  furious  at  the  delay,  then  returned  and  said  Miss 
Dundas  could  not  be  found. 

She  was  forthwith  angrily  commanded  to  go  and  find  Miss 
Dundas,  and  not  return  until  she  did. 

Minnett  meekly  withdrew  again,  and  her  ladyship  sat  another 
hour  fuming  and  raging,  first  against  her  maid,  then  at  Lady 
Randal,  whom  she  believed  to  be  at  the  bottom  of  it  all,  to 
serve  some  purpose  of  her  own,  and  lastly  her  ire  turned  upon 
Brownie  herself  for  allowing  herself  to  be  detained  so  long. 

Finally  her  patience  completely  wearied  out,  she  marched 
down  into  the  drawing-room,  ready  to  berate  the  first  person 
she  met. 

Here  she  found  everybody  in  a great  state  of  excitement  over 
the  non-appearance  of  Miss  Dundas. 

The  servants  had  all  been  closely  questioned,  but  no  one  had 
seen  her  go  out  or  come  in. 

They  had  then  been  sent  forth  into  different  portions  of  thtf 
house  and  grounds  to  search  for  her. 

One,  two,  three  hours  more  passed,  and  still  no  light  was 
thrown  upon  the  mystery.  Lady  Ruxley  became  nearly  dis- 
tracted, Lady  Randal  was  very  much  disturbed,  while  the 
guests,  who  had  remarked  Brownie's  beauty  and  refmemenx, 


544 


“/  WILL  DARE  anything:* 


began  to  whisper  of  an  elopement,  or  something  equally  rc> 
mantic. 

In  the  midst  of  the  excitement,  Viola  and  Alma  appeared 
upon  the  scene,  and  upon  being  told  that  Miss  Dundas  was 
missing,  the  former  asked  what  sort  of  a looking  person  she 
was. 

Sir  Charles  immediately  gave  a very  accurate  description  of 
Brownie,  whereupon  both  girls  exclaimed  : 

^‘Why,  that  is  our  Miss  Douglas,  and  we  met  her  just  as  she 
was  going  out. 

Mrs.  Coolidge  and  Isabel  were  confounded  at  this  speech. 

They  had  not  thought  of  such  a thing  as  the  girls  meeting 
her,  and  had  fondly  hoped  they  should  not  be  drawn  into  the 
matter  any  more  than  to  wonder,  with  the  other  guests,  what 
could  have  become  of  her. 

Now  Viola's  remark  would  involve  no  end  of  explanations, 
which  of  all  things  Mrs.  Coolidge  was  desirous  of  avoiding. 

Everybody  gathered  around  the  young  girls  at  once,  eager  tc 
hear  more. 

''She  was  with  us  an  hour  or  more,"  Viola  further  explained, 
"then  she  said  she  must  return  to  the  Hall,  and  the  last  we 
saw  of  her  she  came  this  way." 

"And  who  is  'our  Miss  Douglas,'  and  what  connection  has 
she  with  Lady  Ruxley’s  companion?"  asked  Sir  Charles,  coming 
forward  and  looking  very  grave. 

"She  was  our  governess  until  about  two  naonthsago,  when — 
when — — " 

Viola  stammered  and  got  very  red  in  the  face. 

Her  heart  prompted  her  to  stand  up  loyally  for  the  teacfeet 


WILL  DARE  ANYTHING. 


345 


whom  she  so  dearly  loved,  but  she  stood  somewhat  in  awe  of 
her  mother,  who  was  regarding  her  with  sternest  displeasure, 
and  whose  eye  she  had  just  caught. 

Mrs.  Coolidge  hastened  to  the  rescue. 

‘‘What  is  this  you  are  saying  about  Miss  Douglas,  Viola 
she  asked,  in  well-assumed  surprise,  at  the  same  time  giving  her 
daughter  a warning  glance. 

Viola  repeated  what  she  had  already  said,  adding  some  fur 
ther  account  of  what  had  transpired  in  the  park. 

When  she  had  concluded,  her  mother  turned  to  Sir  Charles 
with  a grave  and  sorrowful  face. 

“ I really  fear,  Sir  Charles,  that  your  aunt  has  been  grossly 
imposed  upon.  This  Miss  Douglas,  of  whom  Viola  speaks, 
came  over  with  us  from  America  as  governess  to  the  girls.  I 
began  to  suspect  at  the  very  first  that  she  was  not  just  the  per- 
son I could  desire,  but  I put  up  with  her  until  about  two 
months  ago,  when  her  very  unbecoming  conduct  made  it 
necessary  that  I should  dismiss  her  immediately.” 

“What  did  she  do,”  demanded  Lady  Ruxley,  sharply,  “that 
was  so  very  dreadful  V 

“ Really,  I am  very  soiry  to  be  drawn  into  this  very  disagree- 
able matter  thus,  I dislike  to  say  anything  derogatory  to  anj^ 
one,  but  since  yoo  ask,  I will  say  that  she  took  things  which 
did  not  belong  i>  her,  and  made  herself  offensively  free  with 
my  son,  who  is  in  Germany,”  replied  Mrs.  Coolidge,  with 
every  appearance  of  sorrow  that  she  was  obliged  to  make  the 
confession. 

“You'll  have  to  be  older  than  you  are  now  to  make  me  be- 
keve  that,”  muttered  the  old  lady,  indignantly,  in  an  under 


346 


“r  WIJLL  DARh  anything:'^ 


tone,  as  she  eyed  Isabel  and  her  mother  suspicicHisly,  whHe 
Viola  and  Alma  looked  the  daggers  they  dare  not  use  to  defend 
their  beloved  Miss  Douglas. 

Everybody  was  intensely  interested  in  these  new  develop- 
ments, and  the  matter  was  talked  over  until  every  one  was  satis- 
fied that  the  disgraced  governess  was  none  other  than  Miss  Dun- 
das,  the  companion. 

The  date  of  her  accident  and  advent  into  Lady  Randal's 
house  was  identical  with  that  of  her  leaving  Mrs.  Coolidge, 
their  description  of  her  was  the  same,  and  Isabel  recalled 
to  Sir  Charles  the  evening  of  their  ramble,  when  they  had  sees 
her  at  the  villa,  and  she  had  questioned  him  regarding  the  com- 
panion. 

Every  one  was  convinced  now  of  Brownie's  unworthiness,  and 
believed  that  she  had  taken  herself  out  ©f  the  way  because  she 
feared  an  exposure  on  the  part  of  Mrs.  Coolidge,  and  dare  not 
meet  it,  or  that  she  had  eloped,  but  who  with  was  the  ques- 
tion. 

All  but  Lady  Ruxley. 

Her  confidence  was  unshaken  yet. 

‘T  don't  believe  a word  of  it,"  she  said  to  Lady  Randal,  as 
she  assisted  her  to  her  room. 

"‘But,  aunt,  it  must  be  so.  Mrs.  Coolidge's  word  is  indis- 
putable. " 

‘'Maybe  you  think  so,"  retorted  her  ladyship,  irritably. 

“The  evidence  is  so  clear,  too,"  resumed  her  niece,  unheed- 
ing her  remark.  “I  have  feared  from  the  first  that  you  were 
being  imposed  upon.  That's  always  the  way  with  these  girls 
wh@  have  no  recommendation — they  are  all  advenituresses.  I 


«/  WILL  DARE  ANYTHING. 


34t 


only  hope  you  won’t  find  that  she  has  helped  herself  from  your 
belongings.  ” 

‘'Shut  up,  Helen!  You  are  always  ready  to  believe  the 
worst  of  everybody.  I tell  you  I believe  that  there  has  been 
foul  play  in  this  matter,  and  if  the  girl  has  gone  away,  she  has 
been  driven  away  in  some  underhanded  manner.  I can  read 
the  signs  of  the  times,  if  I am  superannuated,  and  I shall  not 
rest  until  I know  more  of  this  matter,”  and  the  crusty  old  lady 
actually  shed  tears  over  the  absence  of  the  patient,  gentle  girl, 
to  whom  she  was  becoming  deeply  attached. 

“The  very  fact  of  her  giving  a false  name  goes  against  her,” 
persisted  Lady  Randal. 

“That  was  not  just  the  thing,  of  course,”  was  the  rather  sub- 
dued reply.  Then  she  added,  as  if  a new  thought  struck  her  : 
“I  believe  that  I was  to  blame  for  that,  after  all.  I had  a bad 
cold  at  that  time,  and  was  as  deaf  as  a post.  I am  convinced 
now  that  she  gave  me  her  name  correctly,  and  I misunderstood 
her,  and  she,  having  had  trouble  with  those  folks,  let  it  go  so.  ” 

“She  had  no  business  to  do  that,”  returned  Lady  Randal, 
with  an  expression  of  righteous  indignation. 

“If  she  never  does  anything  worse  than  give  an  assumed 
name,  she’ll  be  better  than  some  folks  whom  I know.  I reckon 
youve  some  sins  on  your  conscience,  Helen,  blacker  than  any 
that  poor  girl  ever  thought  of,”  said  Lady  Ruxley,  spitefully. 

She  felt  the  woman  on  whose  arm  she  was  leaning  start 
violently,  and  could  she  have  looked  into  her  face  at  that  mo- 
ment she  would  have  been  frightened,  for  it  was  perfectly  livid, 
and  her  lips  twitched  frightfully.  But  she  let  the  acrimonious 
old  woman  alone  after  that  shot. 


348 


WILL  DARE  anything:^ 


Notwithstanding  the  general  belief  that  Miss  Douglas,  as  she 
was  now  called,  had  absconded.  Sir  Charles  gave  orders  that  the 
search  should  be  kept  up  a while  longer. 

Something  might  have  happened  to  her,  he  reasoned,  and  he 
would  give  her  the  benefit  of  the  doubt. 

About  eight  o'clock  Adrian  Dredmond  was  announced.  He 
had  been  to  Lady  Ruxley's  villa,  but  upon  being  told  that  she 
and  her  companion  were  at  the  Hall,  he  drove  immediately 
thither. 

He  was  not  sorry  either  to  have  it  so,  for  he  resolved  to  in- 
troduce Brownie  at  once  as  his  betrothed,  and  claim  Lady 
Ruxley's  protection  for  her  until  he  could  make  suitable 
arrangements  for  their  marriage,  which  he  determined  should 
take  place  as  soon  as  possible. 

Lady  Randal  met  him  in  the  hall  on  her  return  from  Lady 
Ruxley’s  apartments. 

She  greeted  him  cordially,  and  then  taking  his  arm,  led  him 
into  the  drawing-room,  where  he  was  received  with  loud  accla- 
mation, for  he  was  a favorite  wherever  he  went. 

The  conversation  ran  in  a new  channel  for  a few  moments 
after  his  entrance,  but  the  all-absorbing  topic  was  soon  resumed, 
and  Brownie’s  character  was  most  unmercifully  picked  to  pieces 
again,  while  with  a terrible  sinking  at  his  heart,  Adrian  soon' 
learned  something  of  what  had  transpired,  and  it  was  with 
great  difficulty  that  he  maintained  his  composure,  hoping  to 
learn  more. 

But  he  could  not  bear  the  aspersions  cast  upon  his  betrothed, 
and  after  a terribly  scathing  remark  upon  Brownie’s  virtue  from 


WILL  DARE  ANYTHING^ 


349 


Isabel,  followed  by  a bitter  denunciation  from  Mrg.  Coolidge, 
his  indignation  burst  forth. 

He  arose,  and,  with  flushed  face  and  blazing  eyes,  demanded 
•f  the  latter  : 

“Of  whom  do  I understand  you  to  be  speaking.?'' 

“Of  Miss  Douglas,  Mr.  Dredmond — the  governess  who 
came  to  England  with  us,  and  who  has  turned  out  so  sadly,” 
she  replied,  serenely,  and  alf  unconscious  of  the  terrible  storm 
hovering  over  her  head. 

“Perhaps  you  know  who  is  accountable  for  Miss  Douglas' 
misfortunes  since  she  came  abroad.?”  he  returned,  meaningly, 
and  with  a look  that  made  Isabel's  heart  quake,  for  she  knew 
he  had  seen  Brownie  lately,  and  it  was  possible  he,  too,  knew 
all  the  story  of  their  abuse. 

But  Mrs.  Coolidge  was,  as  usual,  equal  to  the  occasion. 

“Really  no.  She  told  me  she  knew  no  one  in  this  country,” 
she  returned,  with  raised  eyebrows,  and  in  surprised  tones. 

“/  know  something  of  Miss  Douglas,  and  that  she  is  unde- 
serving a word  of  the  censure  which  you  have  heaped  upon  her 
this  evening ; and  I demand  that  you  retract  every  word  you 
have  said — all  of  you!”  he  said,  in  tones  which  could  not  be 
mi^ken. 

There  was  a sudden  hush  amoug  the  company,  while  all  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  the  young  man  towering  so  proudly  in  his 
haughty  strength  before  them. 

“Whew!”  whispered  one  or  two  young  men  under  their 
breath.  “The  pretty  little  governess  is  making  quite  a breeze, 
aad  has  won  one  brave  champion  in  her  defense,  at  least” 


350 


<</  WILL  DARE  ANYTHING. 


Mrs.  Cqolidge  felt  by  no  means  as  easy  as  she  appeared ; but 
hers  was  a desperate  case,  and  it  would  not  do  to  relax  in  the 
least  her  vigilance.  So  she  glowered  disapprobation  and  sur- 
prise upon  him,  while  Isabel  tried  to  curl  her  trembling  lips  m 
scoin. 

''Really,  Adrian,''  soothingly  said  Lady  RandaL  whc  begaii 
to  be  afraid  of  a quarrel,  ' ' I am  sorry  to  see  yo\x  so  excite^ 
over  this  unfortunate  affair.  I know  yot:  are  very  philan- 
thropic, but  I am  afraid  you  are  allowing  yourself  to  become 
quixotic  regarding  this  very  singular  young  person." 

His  fine  lips  curled,  and  he  turned  and  bowed  slightly,  as  he 
replied : 

"If  it  is  quixotic  to  defend  a pure  and  lovely  girl  in  her 
absence  from  such  abuse  as  you  have  heaped  upon  her  here  tO' 
night,  then  I plead  guilty  to  the  charge.  I met  Miss  Douglas 
several  months  ago  in  the  United  States.  I know  that  she  is  as 
well-born  as  most  of  you  in  this  room,  and  few  possess  the  cul- 
tivation and  accomplishments  which  she  is  mistress  of.  At  the 
time  of  which  I speak  she  was  believed  to  be  the  heiress  of  more 
than  a million,  and  moved  in  circles  equal  to  our  own,  but 
sudden  misfortune  reduced  her  to  the  necessity  of  becoming  a 
governess. " 

"Why,  Adrian,  I am  astonished!  I did  not  suppose  that 
you  knew  aught  concerning  Miss  Douglas,"  replied  Lady  Ran- 
dal, beginning  to  regard  the  companion  rather  more  leniently. 

"Nor  Ij  that  he  was  so  interested  in  the  poor  but  misguided 
girl,"  added  Mrs.  Coolidge,  with  sarcastic  commiseration. 

She  had  never  forgiven  Adrian's  preference  for  the  beautifcl 


“/  WILL  DARE  ANYTHING!^ 


351 


governess  that  night  at  the  opera,  and  could  not  now  conceal 
her  spite. 

He  wheeled  upon  her  in  an  instant. 

‘'\am  deeply  interested  in  her,  madam.  Miss  Douglas  i» 
my  betrothed  wife;  and  I warn  you  to  be  very  careful  how  you 
speak  of  her  in  the  future.  I could  say  much  more,  but'’'-^ 
with  a glance  from  Isabel  to  Sir  Charles  — ‘^existing  circum- 
stances compel  me  to  be  silent'' 


352 


BKOWNIE^S  S7EANGE  VI3IT0M. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

STRANGE  VISITOR, 

Had  un  •rtrt^quake  shaken  the  house  at  that  moment  greater 
consternation  could  not  have  f>fevailed  than  at  this  announce- 
ment. 

Sir  Charles  regarded  his  friend  in  blank  astonishment,  while 
the  company  were,  most  of  them,  mate  from  surprise. 

Mrs.  Coolidge  cowed  instantly  beneatn  the  indignant  young 
lover  s stern  gaze,  and  then  exchanged  guil»y  glances  of  dismay 
with  Isabel  as  they  wondered  how  they  wodld  ever  answer  to 
him  in  the  future  for  the  doings  of  that  day. 

‘'Adrian,  surely  you  are  crazy!''  almost  shrieked  Lady  Ran- 
dal, at  last.  You  make  such  a mesalliance  as  thi».t!" 

“Call  it  whatever  you  choose,  madam,  but  please  remember 
when  you  speak  of  Miss  Douglas  in  the  future,  that,  you  are 
speaking  of  the  future  Lady  of  Dunforihf  he  said  coldly,  but 
proudly. 

Surely  a nobler  specimen  of  manhood  never  braved  the 
world  s scorn  than  Adrian  Dredmond  at  that  moment ; and 
poor  Brownie,  although  in  “durance  vile"  above  them,  might 
well  look  hopefully  into  the  future,  which  should  be  passed  by 
the  side  of  such  a noble  defender  as  this. 

Turning  to  Sir  Charles  he  made  a signal  for  him  to  follow 


MRO WmE  ’5  STRANGE  VISITOR. 


m 


him,  and  then,  with  a haughty  bow  to  the  assembled  company, 
he  withdrew. 

“Charles,"'  he  exclaimed,  seizing  his  friend’s  hand  when  they 
• ere  alone  in  the  hall,  “will  you  lend  me  your  aid  in  this 
.ouble.^  Something  is  wrong,'*’  he  went  on  speaking,  in  tones 
of  anxiety;  “she  was  expecting  me  to  come  to  her,  and  I 
know  she  would  never  have  gone  away  of  her  own  accord.” 

“lam  constrained  to  take  that  view  of  it  now,  after  what 
you  have  told  me  ; although  I must  confess,  before  you  came, 
I was  inclined  to  believe  the  very  worst  of  her.  I hope,”  he 
added,  with  some  uneasiness,  “that  you  have  not  been  de- 
ceived in  Miss  Douglas."' 

Adrian’s  lips  curled  again. 

He  knew  what  he  had  reference  to.  Sir  Charles  believed  that 
something  must  be  wrong  or  Mrs.  Coolidge  would  not  have 
spoken  as  she  had  done. 

“The  future  will  disclose  whether  I have  or  not,”  he  replied, 
coldly. 

“You  may  depend  upon  me,  Adrian,  to  do  all  in  my  power 
to  unravel  this  mystery.  Miss  Douglas  certainly  appeared  like 
a ver}^  lovely  person,  and  until  to-night  I admired  her  very 
much,  although  I have  rarely  met  her.  Believe  me  you  have 
my  sympathy,”  and  he  meant  it  in  more  senses  than  one. 

“Thank  you,  but  I am  wild  in  trying  to  think  "^at  has  be- 
come of  the  poor  child.  I am  almost  tempted  to  believe ” 

He  checked  himself  suddenly. 

He  was  upon  the  point  of  saying  he  feared  treachery  on  the 
part  of  the  Coolidges ; but  remembering  that  it  would  not  do 
to  speak  of  them  thus  in  Sir  Charles’  presence,  he  stopped. 


J54 


BRO  WNIE  ’ 5 STRANGE  VISITOR. 


‘‘What?’"  Sir  Charles  demanded,  with  a curicms  look. 

I do  not  know  what  to  believe,''  Adrian  said;  then  added, 
suddenly:  “You  may  think  what  you  choose  concerning  whai 
I have  told  you  to-night,  and  the  world  may  say  what  it  will, 
but  Miss  Douglas  is  of  unexceptional  parentage,  and  I shall 
marry  her  just  as  soon  as  I am  fortunate  enough  to  find  her” 

After  a few  more  minutes  spent  in  consultation  as  to  the  best 
means  of  seeking  for  the  lost  one,  Adrian  departed,  his  heart 
filled  well  nigh  to  bursting  with  grief,  insulted  affection,  and 
anxiety. 

He  had  come  with  a heart  beating  high  with  hope  and  love, 
with  not  a thought  but  that  he  should  clasp  his  darling  in  his 
arms,  and,  with  Lady  Ruxley's  co-operation,  be  able  to  place  her 
in  a position  befitting  her  station  until  he  could  marry  her. 
He  had  brought  a little  ring  set  with  a single  glittering  stone 
of  purest  water,  with  which  he  had  hoped  to  seal  their  vows, 
and  now,  as  he  carried  it  away  with  him,  it  seemed  like  a 
silent  mocker  of  his  woe. 

To  have  found  his  darling  and  won  her  love,  oniy  to  lose  her 
so  soon  again,  and  under  such  mysterious  circumstances,  was  a 
terrible  blow  to  him,  while  the  worst  of  all  was  the  fact  that  he 
did  not  know  which  way  to  turn  to  seek  her. 

“Mamma,  did  you  ever  hear  anything  like  it demanded 
Isabel  of  her  mother,  as  soon  as  they  could  excuse  themselves 
from  the  drawing-room  and  retire  to  their  own  rooms. 

“No;  things  are  getting  terribly  mixed  up,  it  seems  to  me. 
How,  when,  where  did  he  meet  her  again,  I W'onder?" 

“I  have  it,"  said  Isabel.  “Lady  Ruxley  attended  th©  dinner 


BRO  WNIE  STRANGE  VISITOR. 


355 


at  Dunforth  Castle;  of  course  her  companion  accompanied 
her,  and  they  met  there.  It  must  have  been  quite  recent,  I 
j«dge/' 

‘^Well,  he  won't  find  her  again  for  one  while,  that  is  sure," 
returned  Mrs.  Coolidge,  with  a savage  glitter  in  her  eyes. 

‘‘Oh,  mamma,  you  look  alrtiost  as  though  you  would  like 
to  kill  her !"  Isabel  exclaimed,  in  a frightened  whisper. 

‘‘I  believe  I wish  she  had  died  before  she  ever  saw  Adrian 
Dredmond,"  she  answered,  vindictively.  ‘‘To  think  that  she 
should  win  him^  while  will  only  be  a haromfs  wife  !" 

Isabel  flushed  angrily. 

“That  all  comes  ot  papa's  picking  up  a nobody  with  a pretty 
face  and  a glib  tongue,"  she  said. 

‘ ‘ Let  us  go  and  see  how  it  fares  with  her  now ; methinks  the 
proud  beauty  will  be  somewhat  humbled  by  this  time.  But 
humbled  or  not  she  will  have  to  stay  there  until  after  your  mar- 
riage, for  if  Mr.  Dredmond  should  find  her  now,  there  would 
be  an  end  to  all  your  fine  plans,"  said  Mrs.  Coolidge,  moving 
toward  the  draped  door. 

She  shoved  the  heavy  bolt,  and , the  two  women  entered 
Brownie's  prison. 

They  found  her  sitting  upon  the  floor  near  the  door,  looking 
pale  and  wan. 

The  light  which  they  bore  blinded  her  eyes  at  first  so  that 
she  could  scarcely  see,  but  she  arose  as  they  entered  and  stood 
in  haughty  silence  before  them,  and  holding  the  precious  oas- 
ket  tightly  clasped  in  her  hands  behind  her. 

“Well,  how  do  you  like  your  place  of  retirement?  Quie^ 


35^ 


BROWNIE'S  STRANGE  VISITOR. 


isn’t  it?”  sneered  Isabel,  while  she  began  to  walk  about  the 
place  as  if  to  examine  it. 

The  insulted  girl  deigned  her  no  reply. 

“ Miss  Douglas,  I have  come  to  make  one  more  appeal  to 
you.  Are  you  willing  to  accede  to  my  terms  ?” 
madam  r 

“ Will  nothing  move  you?  Cannot  I persuade  you,  under 
any  circumstances,  to  let  Isabel  retain  those  jewels  a while 
longer,  and  you  keep  silent  about  them  ?” 

You  cannot,  madam  ; there  is  a limit  to  human  endurance, 
and  I have  reached  that  limit.  ” 

But  scarce  were  the  words  spoken  when  she  uttered  a cry  of 
pain  and  dismay. 

Isabel  had  glided  stealthily  around  behind  her,  and  with  one 
powerful  blow  had  dashed  the  casket  from  her  hands. 

The  next  instant,  and  before  Brownie  could  turn  to  prevent 
her,  she  had  captured  it,  and  with  a low,  mocking  laugh,  glided 
from  the  place. 

She  had  struck  the  arm  that  had  been  broken,  and  being 
weaker  than  the  other  the  blow  had  benumbed  it,  causing  her 
to  release  her  hold  upon  the  casket  and  to  cry  out  with  pain. 

With  all  her  spirit  roused  to  battle.  Brownie  sprang  to  follow 
the  artful  girl,  but  Mrs.  Coolidge  barred  the  way. 

‘‘No,  no,  miss,  you  cannot  leave  this  place  to-night;  you 
are  in  too  dangerous  a mood,”  she  said. 

“What  do  you  mean  by  detaining  me  here?”  Brownie  de^ 
manded,  almost  passionately. 

“ I mean  just  what  I said,  that  you  are  too  dangerous  to  be 


BROWNIE^  S STRANGE  VISITOR, 


3S7 


let  loose  to-night,  unless  you  will  solemnly  promise  not  to 
make  any  trouble  for  us.  ” 

^‘You  are  very  much  mistaken  if  you  think  you  can  make 
any  such  terms  with  me,  Mrs.  Coolidge.  I do  not  fear  you  in 
the  least,  and  unless  you  restore  my  jewels,  and  let  me  go  at 
once,  I shall  make  such  trouble  that  you  will  rue  it  until  your 
dying  day."'  , 

And  Mrs.  Coolidge  knew  she  would  do  it ; she  saw  that  she 
had  aroused  a spirit  stronger  than  her  own ; she  quailed  before 
it,,  and  knew  that  victory  for  her  could  only  be  gained  in  ont 
way— to  keep  her  under  lock  and  key  until  after  Isabels  mar- 
jdage.  Then  she  would  not  care  what  she  did. 

‘‘You  do  not  fear  me,  and  I have  power  to  keep  you  here 
indefinitely  she  retorted,  flushing  angrily. 

“That  maybe,  but  there  will  come  a day  of  reckoning 
sooner  or  later,  Brownie  replied,  dauntlessly.  “You  do  not 
suppose,''  she  added,  scornfully,  “that  in  this  nineteenth  cen- 
tury you  can  keep  me  concealed  for  any  length  of  time.  I 
shall  be  missed,  if  I am  not  already,  and  the  whole  house 
searched  for  me. " 

Yon  have  been  missed,  and  the  whole  house -and  grounds 
have  been  thoroughly  searched  for  you,  but  no  one  has  thought 
of  looking  for  you,  Miss  Douglas,"  Mrs.  Coolidge  replied, 
with  a malicious  gleam  of  her  eyes. 

Brownie's  heart  sank,  and  she  grew  whiter  about  the  mouth 
at  these  words,  but  she  would  give  no  outward  sign  of  the 
growing  fear  in  her  heart. 

“May  I ask  how  long  you  intend  to  keep  me  in  solitary  con- 
finement ? You  are  aware,  perhaps,  that  people  cannot  live 


358 


BRO  WNIE  ’ 6*  STRANGE  VISITOR, 


very  long  shut  up  in  a dark  place  like  this, ''  she  said,  thinking 
to  frighten  her  into  letting  her  go. 

The  woman  started.  She  had  not  thought  of  its  being  soli- 
tary confinement  before,  and  it  was  a good  while  before  the 
grand  wedding  would  come  off. 

She  meditated  a moment  before  replying,  then  she  said  : 
will  endeavor  to  see  that  you  do  not  suffer.  Miss  Douglas, 
but  I must  keep  you  here  for  the  present.  Undoubtedly  you 
know  that  Isabel  is  to  marry  Sir  Charles  Randal  very  shortly, 
and  I am  resolved  that  nothing  shall  interfere  with  that  match. 
If  I should  let  you  go  now,  you  would  raise  such  a breeze  foi 
us  that  everything  would  be  upset.  There  is  only  one  condition 
upon  which  I would  release  you,''  she  concluded,  with  a search 
ing  look  into  the  young  girl's  face,  and  really  feeling  anxious  to 
let  her  go,  if  she  would  only  keep  silence. 

‘'What  is  that?"  demanded  Brownie,  quickly. 

"That  you  would  go  quietly  away  from  Vallingham  ilall 
and  conceal  yourself  from  everybody  until  after  the  wedding  ; 
then,  I promise  you,  we  will  return  the  jewels  to  you." 

The  delicate  lips  curled,  and  the  lovely  eyes  flashed  omi- 
nously. 

"Wril  you?"  asked  her  enemy. 

"No!  I will  not  yield  to  you  in  a single  point  T was  the 
haughty  reply. 

"Very  well,  there  is  nothing  more  to  be  said,  then.  I will 
arrange  a good  bed  for  you,  give  you  plenty  of  books  and 
papers  to  read,  and  bring  you  food  three  times  a day.  You 
shall  have  plenty  of  candles,  too,  so  that  I imagine  you  will 


BJ?OlVm£^S  STRANGE  VISITOR. 


359 


manage  to  exist  quite  comfortably  for  a few  weeks/*'  and  she 
left  the  room  as  she  spoke. 

A few  weeks  ! 

Would  she  dare  keep  her  there  so  long?  Brownie  thought, 
with  a sinking  heart 

Meanwhile,  what  would  Adrian  think — what  would  they  all 
think  had  become  of  her?  Even  her  strong,  proud  spirit 
trembled  before  such  an  appalling  prospect,  yet  she  never 
thought  of  yielding. 

Mrs.  Coolidge  soon  returned,  and  Isabel  with  her,  bringing 
a mattress,  bed-clothes,  and  a tray  containing  a dainty  supper, 
the  former  having  taken  care  to  provide  it,  knowing  that  her 
prisoner  had  been  long  without  food.  They  also  brought  her 
a chair,  and  left  her  a candle,  and  then  retired,  leaving  her 
somewhat  anxious  for  the  fbture,  but  by  no  means  subdued. 

'‘We'll  bring  her  to  terms  before  many  days— never  fear, " 
Mrs.  Coolidge  said  to  Isabel,  before  going  to  her  own  room. 

"I  don't  know  about  it,  mamma ; she  is  the  spunkiest  thing 
I ever  saw  in  my  life. " 

"Pshaw!  After  two  or  three  days  of  that  kind  of  life  she 
mil  be  glad  to  go  away  and  hide  herself  until  after  the  wed 
iing." 

"But  would  you  trust  her  now?" 

"Yes;  shed  never  promise  unless  she  meant  it,  and  she'd 
Lcep  her  word,  was  the  tribute  which  this  bitter  foe  paid  to 
he  young  girl's  strong,  true  spirit. 

Left  to  herself.  Brownie's  first  work  was  to  eat  her  supper,  for 
he  was  really  very  hungry,  and  the  inner  man  thus  strengthened 
he  felt  somewhat  more  cheerful. 


BRO  WNIE  ’ S STRANGE  VISITOR. 


360 

She  arranged  her  bed,  for  she  was  very  weary  with  sitting  for- 
so  many  hours  upon  that  stone  floor,  and  then . retired,  feeling 
rather  lonely  and  sad,  but  confident  that  the  Lord,  her  shep- 
herd, would  care  for  her  there  as  tenderly  as  in  her  own  room; 
and  ere  long  she  was  sleeping  soundly. 

She  never  knew  how  long  she  had  been  sleeping,  for  her  rest 
had  been  unbroken  and  dreamless,  but  she  was  suddenly, 
awakened  by  a cold  clasp  upon  her  hand  ! 

In  an  instant  every  sense  was  unlocked,  and  she  was  broad- 
awake,  with  that  instinctive  consciousness  of  a horrible  pres- 
ence, which  people  sometimes  have  when  danger  lurks  near. 

The  candle  still  burned,  and  lighted  the  place  with  a reddish  ! 
glare,  for  she  had  not  extinguished  it,  feeling  that  the  darkness  j 
would  have  been'too  horrible,  and  by  its  light  she  could  dis- 
tinguish a strange-looking  object  kneeling  by  her  side. 

With,  a cry  of  terror  she  started  up  to  find  herself  face  to  face  I 
with  a form  so  misshapen,  so  frightful,  so  weird  and  uncanny, 
that  the  sound  suddenly  died  upon  her  lips,  and  left  her  para- 1 
lyzed  with  fear. 

The  creature  immediately  arose  and  moved  away  from  her  a 
pace  or  two  at  seeing  her  so  terrified. 

'‘Have  I frightened  you.?  I am  so  sorry,  and  yet  I might 
have  known.  But  do  not  fear,  I would  be  the  last  person  in 
the  world  to  harm  you,''  were  the  words  which  greeted  her  ears, 
in  tones  so  soft  and  gentle  that  Brownie  involuntarily  raised  her 
eyes,  and  was  at  once  reassured,  though  still  so  weak  and  trem- 
bling from  her  first  fright  that  she  could  not  speak. 

He — for  he  was  dressed  in  man's  apparel,  though  so  mis- 
shapen as  to  scarcely  resemble  a human  being — had  turned,  so 


BRO  WNIE  ’5  STRANGE  VISITOR. 


361 


I that  the  light  struck  full  upon  his  face,  and  was  looking  down 
j upon  her  with  a pair  of  the  saddest  gray  eyes  she  ever  saw. 

His  face  was  pale  and  haggard,  and  his  lips  perfectly  color- 
I less,  but  there  was  a smile  of  patient  sweetness  upon  them  that 
I went  to  her  heart  at  once. 

I His  forehead  was  high  and  broad,  and  surmounted  by  hair 
I which  was  perfectly  white,  although  his  general  appearance  did 
[ not  indicate  that  he  could  be  more  than  twenty-one  or  twenty- 
I two  years  of  age. 

I His  head  was  very  large  for  the  rest  of  his  body,  and  rested 
I forward  upon  his  breast,  while  his  shoulders  came  up  so  high 
jthat  he  seemed  to  have  no  neck  at  all ; one  hand  hung  limp, 

1 withered,  and  helpless  by  his  side,  while  one  foot  and  leg  were 
I twisted  entirely  out  of  place,  the  heel  being  where  the  toe 
should  be. 

Ah ! he  was  a sad-looking  object,  but  Brownie  felt  no  fear  of 
him  now. 

He  had  a true,  good  face,  full  of  intelligence  and  mental 
power,  and  while  she  looked  into  it,  a great  pity  came  into  her 
eyes,  and  the  tears  involuntarily  started. 

He  was  quick  to  read  her  sympathy,  for  he  said,  with  his  sad 
smile : 

Thank  you  ; I see  you  don’t  fear  me  any  longer.” 

‘'Oh,  no,”  she  answered,  gently ; “but  I did  not  think  any 
one  could  get  in  here,  and  I was  startled  at  first.  ” 

“I  ought  to  have  been  more  careful,  but  I did  not  like  to 
speak  loud  enough  to  wake  you,  lest  I should  be  heard,”  and 
he  glanced  toward  the  door. 

Then  he  added ; 


362 


BRO  WmE  STRANGE  VISITOR. 


‘‘Can  you  trust  me  sufficiently  to  let  me  take  you  out  of  thi 
miserable  place?  I came  to  release  you/' 

“Can  you?  will  you?”  she  exclaimed,  eagerly.  “Oh,  yes 
I can  trust  you  fully !” 

He  seemed  gratified  by  her  confidence,  and  smiled  again^ 
while  his  eyes  rested  admiringly  upon  her  now  bright  face. 

“But  how  did  you  get  in  here  ?'  she  asked,  the  next  instant 

“I  have  been  here  many  times,  and  yet  I never  entered  bj 
that  door,”  he  answered,  pointing  to  the  door  by  which  Brownir 
had  come  in,  and  speaking  somewhat  bitterly. 

“But  how  did  you  know  I was  here?”  and  she  looked  per 
plexed,  for  she  could  not  detect  so  much  as  a rat-hole  anywhere. 

“I  overheard  all  that  passed  between  you  and  those  women,'! 
he  answered,  with  a nod  in  the  direction  of  Isabel's  room. 

She  looked  more  astonished  than  ever. 

“Come  this  way  and  I will  explain  it  all  to  you,”  he  said. 

He  stooped  and  picked  up  the  candle,  and  then  moved  with 
diflSculty  to  the  opposite  end  of  the  cell.  ■ 

Holding  the  light  close  to  the  floor,  he  continued  : 

“Do  you  see  that  semicircular  block  of  stone  about  a fo^ 
and  a half  in  diameter?” 

“Yes.” 

“And  what  looks  like  a huge  iron  bolt  set  close  to  that  small 
round  shaft  of  stone  which  runs  clear  to  the  ceiling  ?” 

“Yes.” 

“If  you  will  step  upon  that  block,  and  press  your  foot  firmly 
upon  that  bolt,  you  will  find  that  this  stone  pillar  will  begin  toj 
slide  slowly  down.  When  you  have  descended  about  four  feet 
you  will  see  a short  flight  of  stone  steps ; step  upon  these  and 


BROWNIE'S  STRANGE  VISITOR. 


363 

this  shaft  will  return  to  its  place.  Follow  the  stone  steps  and 
they  will  lead  you  to  a comfortable  room  ; I left  the  door  open, 

I and  there  is  a light  within,  so  that  you  will  have  no  diffiulty  in 
finding  the  way.'" 

‘‘But  you — ^you  will  have  to  remain  here,"  Brownie  said, 

I hesitatingly. 

j It  all  seemed  so  wonderful  and  mysterious  to  her,  that  for  a 
I moment  she  could  scarcely  comprehend  it. 

“As  soon  as  the  shaft  returns  to  its  place,  I will  join  you; 
only  one  can  go  at  a time,  because  the  platform  is  so  narrow,  ” 
he  replied. 

“How  strange  ! it  does  not  look  as  if  there  were  any  possi- 
ble way  of  escape  from  the  place,"  she  said,  closely  txamining 
that  end  of  the  cell. 

“No  ; the  trap  was  very  cunningly  planned,  probably  wheK 
the  old  castle  was  first  built,  and  this  shaft  looks  as  if  it  was 
only  a pillar  to  support  the  roof.  You  perceive  there  is  on® 
upon  each  side  of  the  cell,  but  only  this  one  has  the  bolt  at  the 
basa" 

“Why  do  you  suppose  it  was  made  so.?"  Brownie  asked, 

1 curiously. 

“Probably  as  a place  of  concealment,  or  a way  of  escape,  in 
case  of  troublous  times  in  the  country.  Of  late  years  it  has 
been  used  as — but  never  mind  that  now,"  he  suddenly  checked 
himself,  and  then  added  : ‘ ‘ Have  you  courage  to  step  upon 
i that  narrow  platform  and  go  down  alone  V 
i Browmie  lifted  her  clear  eyes  once  more  and  searched  his 
I face  before  replying. 

I It  was  a noble  countenance,  and  fell  of  marks  of  pain  and 


3^4 


BRO  WNIE  ’ ^ STRANGE  VISITOR. 


1 


patient  suffering,  and  while  she  looked  it  seemed  suddenly  to  j 
grow  strangely  like  some  other  face  which  she  had  seen,  bui 
whose  she  could  not  at  that  moment  recall.  I 

‘‘Yes,  I will  go”  she  said,  and  stepped  upon  that  semicircu- j 
lar  block  of  stone. 

“You  will  only  be  alone  for  a moment,’'  he  said,  “forlj 
shall  follow  you  immediately  ; now  lean  close  against  the  shaft,  i 
There  ! now  plant  your  foot  upon  the  bolt — so.  Now  you  arc  \ 
all  right.” 

Brownie  obeyed  his  directions  without  a fear,  for  she  sawtha; 
he  was  only  intent  upon  serving  her,  and  she  felt  herself  glid- 
ing slowly  and  smoothly  downward.  ! 

A moment  more  and  she  found  herself  in  another  darki 
closet,  or  passage,  from  which  a short  flight  of  stone  steps  lecjj 
up  to  an  open  door,  through  which  a light  shone,  dimly  light-] 
ing  the  place.  I 

She  stepped  from  the  platform  upon  the  stairs,  and  the  shaf  I 
instantly  began  to  ascend  again.  | 

Following  the  stairs  she  soon  found  herself,  as  she  had  beerj 
told,  in  a large,  airy,  and  comfortable  room.  I 

The  walls  were  hung  with  ancient  and  faded  tapestry,  but  the  j 
floor  was  carpeted  with  bright  warm  colors,  and  the  room  was  J 
quite  tastefully  furnished.  ' 

It  was  lighted  by  two  tall  wax  candles  in  silver  candlestick^ij 
tnd  a cheerful  fire  burned  in  the  grate.  There  were  seven^i; 
bookcases  well  filled  with  nicely  bound  volumes,,  and  a few  fin|  i 
engravings  with  some  beautiful  drawings  hung  upon  the  walls,  jii 
She  had  not  time  for  a more  minute  survey  of  the  apartment,  i 
for  she  was  rejoined  by  her  strange  companion. 


BROWNIE'S  STRANGE  VISITOR. 


365 


He  smiled  at  her  look  of  wonder  and  curiosity,  and  alter 
shutting  and  locking  the  door,  and  dropping  the  tapestry  over 
it,  said  : 

i ‘‘Now  I will  explain  how  I happened  to  know  that  you  were 
jin  trouble  and  needed  assistance/' 

He  moved  a few  steps  further  up  the  room,  thrust  aside  an-« 
other  portion  of  the  hangings,  and  Brownie  saw  the  same  shaft 
or  pillar  of  stone  that  she  had  seen  in  the  cell. " At  the  right 
of  it  she  also  saw  that  a portion  of  the  stone  wall  had  been 
hammered  or  chiseled  away,  until  only  a very  thin  surface 
divided  the  two  rooms,  and  this  had  been  punctured  full  of 
tiny  holes,  through  which  could  be  seen  the  light  of  the  candle 
which  they  had  left  behind  ; and  yet  from  the  room  they  had 
just  left  nothing  of  this  could  be  detected. 

‘ ‘ Ah  ! I see, " Brownie  said,  and  then  she  remembered  her 
confidence  in  the  good  Shepherd,  while  she  reverently  acknowb 
edged  His  hand  in  leading  her  forth  from  her  captivity. 

“Yes,"  the  you*  g man  replied,-  while  a look  of  infinite  pain 
swept  over  his  features,  “it  is  always  very  quiet  here,  and  to- 
night while  reading  I was  startled  by  the  sound  of  voices  and  a 
low,  mocking  laugh  coming  from  this  direction.  Much  as- 
tonished, for  nothing  like  it  has  ever  happened  before,  I threw 
4own  my  book,  crept  to  this  spot,  and  listened.  Although  I 
could  not  see  very  distinctly,  I could  hear,  and  soon  discovered 
that  some  one  had  been  forced  into  yonder  cell  to  cover  up 
some  dark  deed  or  other.  I learned  that  your  name  is  Miss 
Douglas,  and  that  you  possess  a very  brave  spirit,  for  you  re^ 
fiised  to  yield  to  your  tormentors,  when  most  young  ladies 
would  have  begged  and  prayed  to  be  let  out  upon  any  terms. " 


STRANGE  VISITOR. 


He  coTicluded  with  another  glance  of  admiration. 

Her  lips  curled  in  a little  mischievous  smile,  as  she  wondei^ 
how  Isabel  and  her  mother  would  feel  the  next  time  the/  un- 
bolted  that  door,  and  found  their  bird  flown ! 

‘‘  But  I don't  see  how  you  got  the  shaft  down  to  those  stairs,'' 
she  said,  in  perplexity.  Her  spirits  were  rising  every  moment. 

‘Ht  works  in  the  same  way  from  this  room  that  it  does  front 
the  other ; only  when  it  got  down,  I moved  around  to  the  op- 
posite side  without  stepping  off,  and  then,  not  pressing  upon 
the^bolt,  it  arose  to  its  place  again.  I thought  it  best  for  you, 
however,  to  come  up  by  the  stairs,  fearing  you  might  fal/  from  the 
platform  if  you  moved, the  young  man  explained. 

"‘How  came  these  holes  punctured  here,  and  this  stone  cut 
away  so  ?"  she  asked,  feeling  deeply  interested  in  the  strange 
piece  of  machinery  and  that  riddled  wall. 

''There  is  a sad  story  connected  with  that.  Miss  Dougla*, 
which  I fear  it  would  do  no  good  to  relate, " was  the  pained 
Etply,  while  the  white  face  flushed  sudden  vivid  crimson 


HERBERT  RANDAL. 


367 


CHAPTER  XXXIII, 

HERBERT  RANDAL. 

'‘I  be^  your  pardon.  I did  not  mean  to  be  inquisitive,  0^ 
to  arouse  any  unpleasant  memories/'  Brownie  hastened  to  say, 
but  she  looked  somewhat  disappointed,  as  well  as  embarrassed. 

He  saw  it,  and,  after  a moment's  thought,  continued,  speak- 
ing more  to  himself  than  her : 

^‘During  the  last  few  years  of  my  life  I have  been  led  to 
recognize  a higher  power  as  guiding  my  life,  and  I have  been 
praying  that  its  bitterness  might  be  removed.  I am  not  sure 
but  what  that  prayer  is  beginning  to  be  answered  by  the  events 
of  to-night,  and  your  presence  here.  So  why  should  I not  tell 

Then,  with  sudden  decision,  he  went  on  : 

“Miss  Douglas,  this  place  has  been  my  home  all  my  life. 
Yes,"  as  he  saw  her  look  of  surprise,  and  speaking  with  great 
bitterness,  ‘ ‘ a galley  slave  is  scarcely  more  of  a prisoner  than  I 
have  been  ever  since  my  unfortunate  birth.  I have  never  seen 
the  outside  of  these  buildings,  excepting  four  blank  walls  which 
inclose  a small  court ; I know  not  what  my  surroundings  are, 
what  my  country  is  like,  and,  beyond  my  own  attendants,  scarce 
have  seen  the  face  of  a human  being.  I think  I must  have 
been  born  with  a deformed  disposition  as  well  as  a distorted 
body ; for,  as  a child,  I was  subject  to  fits  of  passion,  so  furious 
and  of  such  long  duration,  that  those  who  had  charge  of  me 
deemed  me  insane  and  unsafe  for  the  time,  and  used  to  confine 
me  in  yonder  cell  until  I came  to  my  senses.  The  bolt,  you 
perceive,  can  be  fastened  on  this  side,  so  that  the  shaft  will  not 


368 


HERBERT  RANDAL, 


move,  and  I could  not  get  out  until  they  released  me.  I used 
to  grow  frightened  and  almost  idiotic  shut  up  in  that  dismal 
place  with  its  sepulcher-like  stillness,  and  I really  think  that  in 
those  days  I was  more  brute  than  human.  I was  like  that  poor 
child  in  the  Scriptures,  whom  his  father  took  to  Jesus  to  have 
the  evil  spirit  exorcised,  only  I had  no  father  to  lead  me  to  the 
Great  Healer  of  souls,  or  everything  might  have  been  very  dif- 
ferent. It  is  only  through  the  Saviour’s  own  great  love  and 
mercy  that  I found  Him  at  all'.  Oh  ! I wonder  what  it  is  like 
for  a child  to  have  the  love  and  care  of  a father  and  mother, 
brothers  and  sisters  ! I have  read  of  it,  and  it  seems  like 
heaven  to  me !” 

His  voice,  as  he  said  this,  was  like  the  passionate  cry  of  some 
lost  soul  longing  for  Paradise,  and  Brownie  could  see  that  his 
hands  were  locked  in  pain,  and  that  his  forehead  was  covered 
with  moisture  caused  by  his  anguish.  Her  heart  bled  for  him, 
and  she  longed  to  comfort  him.  But  what  could  she  say  ? She 
did  not  even  know  his  name,  nor  the  circumstances  which  had 
so  isolated  him  from  all  humanity,  or  denied  to  him  the  com- 
fort of  kindred  ties.  He  turned  toward  her,  and  seeing  the 
pity  in  her  eyes,  said  : 

‘‘Forgive  me  for  disturbing  you  with  my  sorrow — it  will 
overcome  me  at  times.  But,  as  I was  saying,  I used  to  think  I 
should  die  shut  up  in  there  away  from  every  one ; so,  after  my 
passion  exhausted  itself  and  I was  let  out,  I used  to  busy  my- 
self, when  I was  alone  in  this  room,  by  cutting  away  this  wall, 
and  puncturing  these  holes ; and  then  when  they  put  me  in 
there,  I would  creep  close  to  this  spot,  and,  with  my  ear  against 
these  holes,  I could  hear  what  was  said  and  done  here,  and  did 
not  feel  quite  so  lonely  and  wild.  ” 

A shudder  seemed  to  shake  his  whole  frame  at  the  remeiB' 
brance  of  those  fearful  days. 

“No  one  but  yourself,”  he  continued,  “ knows  to  this  day 
that  the  wall  has  been  mutilated  thus.  It  is  several  years  now 


HERBERT  RANDAL. 


since  these  holes  have  been  serviceable  to  me,  for  the  evil  spirit 
within  me  was  long  ago  exorcised,  since  when  I have  been 
clothed  and  in  my  right  mind,''  he  concluded,  with  his  sad, 
sweet  smile,  which  to  Brownie  began  to  be  very  beautiful. 

But  the  more  she  heard  him  talk,  the  more  she  wondered 
who  he  could  be — this  sad  young  cripple,  who  was  so  gentle,  yet 
repulsive,  so  intelligent,  yet  to  all  appearance  scarcely  human. 
She  looked  at  her  watch,  and  found  it  was  four  o'clock.  The 
young  man,  noting  the  act,  suddenly  said  : 

‘^How  thoughtless  in  me.  Miss  Douglas,  to  keep  you  stand- 
ing all  this  time.  I suppose  you  will  be  obliged  to  remain  here 
until  daylight,  as  there  is  no  way  for  you  to  get  back  into  the 
Hall  except  by  going  outside  from  here,  and  ^f  course  it  will  be 
useless  to  attempt  that  until  the  household  are  astir.  If  you  can 
be  comfortable  here  for  an  hour  longer,  I will  do  my  best  to 
entertain  you.  I have  books,  and  all  the  latest  periodicals,  and 
there  is  an  easy-chair  by  the  fire,  which  I know  you  will  enjoy. " 

He  led  her  toward  the  fire,  which  really  made  the  somewhat 
dismal  apartment  very  cheerful. 

She  thanked  him,  and  sat  down,  taking  the  book  of  fine  en- 
gravings which  he  offered  her. 

She  looked  at  one  or  two  of  the  pictures,  but  she  seemed  to 
have  no  interest  in  them. 

Her  thoughts  were  filled  with  this  young  man  ; she  longed  to 
know  more  of  his  sad  history,  and  why  his  life  had  been  ren- 
dered such  a blank. 

It  could  not  be  that  he  was  really  insane,  and  that  it  was 
necessary  to  confine  him  thus  ! Was  she  with  a madman 

The  thought  for  the  moment  startled  her  so  that  she  actually 
felt  faint.  But,  no ; one  look  into  that  calm,  patient  face,  with 
its  deep,  intelligent  eyes,'  completely  banished  all  fear,  and  left 
her  more  in  the  dark  than  ever. 

‘‘You  are  very  weary,"  the  young  man  remarked,  seeing  her 
listless  attitude. 


Z70 


HERBERT  RANDAL. 


No/' she  answered,  smiling;  ‘"but  I am  wondering  how 
my  explanation  regarding  my  absence  and  sudden  reappearance 
will  be  received  l3y  Lady  Ruxley." 

^‘Ah  ! I had  not  thought  of  that,'’  he  replied,  with  a painful 
start,  and  a vivid  flush  crimsoning  his  white  face. 

Brownie  saw  that  he  was  very  much  disturbed  by  her.  words. 

‘‘You  are  an  inmate  of  the  family,  then.?"  he  asked,; 
thoughtfully. 

“I  am  companion  to  Lady  Ruxley,  although  before  coming 
to  her  I was  governess  in  the  family  of  that  woman  who  en- 
trapped me  into  yonder  cell,"  and  she  then  related  to  him 
something  of  her  troubles  with  Mrs.  Coolidge. 

“And  it  is  her  daughter  who  is  to  marry  m Sir  Charles?" 

the  young  man  asC^ed,  deeply  interested. 

“Yes." 

“Is  she  anything  like  her  mother.?" 

“ Very  much  like  her,"  Brownie  said,  dryly. 

“A  fine  wife  he  will  have,  I fear !"  he  answered,  with  curling 
lips. 

“I  am  very  sorry  for  him,"  the  young  girl  replied,  gently. 

“He  is  very  nice,  I expect,"  said  the  cripple,  his  lips  quiv- 
ering painfully,  while  he  shaded  his  face  with  his  hand. 

“He  is  indeed  a very  fine  young  man,  I am  told." 

“ Would  you  mind  telling  me  what  he  is  like?"  and  Brownit 
wondered  why  his  tones  were  husky  and  tremulous. 

She  described  him  as  well  as  she  could,  and  concluded  : 

“To  sum  it  all  up,  he  is  very  handsome,  and  as  good — they 
say — and  noble  in  proportion. " 

A heavy  sigh  was  the  qnly  reply,  and  then  he  appeared  to  be 
sunk  in  reverie. 

After  an  awkward  silence,  he  suddenly  aroused  himself,  and 
said : 

“Miss  Douglas,  you  and  I are  both  placed  in  a very  trying 
position  by  the  events  of  to-night.  It  did  not  enter  my  mind 


HERBERT  RANDAL. 


371 


that  any  explanation  would  have  to  be  rendered  as  to  your  re- 
lease from  yonder  cell,  although  I should  not  have  hesitated  an 
instant  about  aiding  you  had  I thought  of  it.  I see  now  that 
some  account  of  it  will  be  necessary,  but  I must  tell  you  frankly 
that  it  will  bring  the  direst  confusion  upon  the  inmates  of  Vab 
lingham  Hall,  when  you  return  and  make  known  the  fact  of 
your  imprisonment  and  the  manner  of  your  release.'" 

‘H  expected  it  would  be  somewhat  embarrassing  to  Mrs. 
Coolidge  and  her  daughter,  but  how  else  will  it  bring  confu> 
sion  Brownie  asked,  wonderingly. 

‘‘Because  it  will  have  to  be  known  that  I was  instrumental  in 
it,  and  there  are  but  two  or  three  people  in  the  world  who  know 
of  my  existence ; consequently  it  would  involve  some  very  awk- 
ward explanations  on  the  part  of  at  least  one  individual,  and 
that  is  my  own  mother.  Miss  Douglas,  my  name  is  Herbert 
Randal!” 

“What!  are  you  Lady  Randal's  son.?^"  demanded  Brownie, 
in  astonishment. 

“Yes;  and  Sir  Charles  is  my  own  brother,  although  I have 
never  yet  looked  upon  his  face ; neither  do  I remember  having 
seen  my  mother  more  than  half  a dozen  times  in  my  life,"  he 
replied,  with  intense  bitterness. 

“Impossible  1 Why,  it  is  too  horrible  I"  ejaculated  the  young 
girl,  more  and  more  astonished  and  shocked. 

“It  is  even  so.  It  does  not  seem  possible  that  a mother  could 
so  far  forget  her  motherhood  as  to  willingly  condemn  her  own 
flesh  and  blood  to  what  I have  been  doomed  ever  since  my 
birth  ; but  it  is  true,  nevertheless.  I was  born  abroad  while  my 
mother  was  traveling  one  summer,  but  I was  such  a misshapen 
mass  of  humanity  that  she  went  into  convulsions  upon  first 
beholding  me,  and  has  seldom  been  able  to  bear  the  sight  of  me 
since.  While  my  father  lived  I was  kept  out  of  the  country, 
and  I do  not  believe  that  even  he  knew  of  my  existence ; but 
after  his  death  my 'mother  had  me  brought  here,  and  hired  an 


372 


HERBERT  RANDAL. 


old  woman  and  her  son  to  take  care  of  me  until  I was  about 
fourteen  years  of  age.  They  often  abused  and  ill-treated  me, 
and  I think  perhaps  it  was  owing  to  this  that  I was  so  ungov- 
ernable at  times.  Since  that  time  a broken-down  professor  has 
^ad  the  principal  charge  of  me  and  my  education.  He  has 
been  paid  a high  salary^  upon  the  condition  that  he  would  never 
betray  his  trust.  I think  he  would  be  glad  to  see  me  in  different 
circumstances,  but  he  has  an  invalid  sister  depending  upon  him, 
and  he  has  no  other  means  of  support.  He  has  been  very  kind 
to  me,  and  has  done  the  utmost  to  train  my  mind  aright,  thus 
giving  some  brightness  to  my  otherwise  blighted  life ; but  I have 
been  kept  a close  prisoner  all  my  days.  I am  never  allowed  to 
go  out,  except  under  circumstances  of  the  utmost  secrecy,  and 
then  only  into  a little  court  hemmed  in  by  the  blank  walls  of 
these  buildings,  and  I live  here  in  this  secret  chamber,  unknown 
to  all  but  my  mother,  my  tutor,  and  my  servants."' 

‘‘Dreadful !"  murmured  Brownie,  almost  moved  to  tears  by 
the  sad  recital. 

“You  may  well  say  that.  It  is  dreadful  to  be  shut  up  from 
the  beautiful  world — for  I read  of  its  beauties  if  I cannot  see 
them;  but  it  is  dreadful  to  be  shut  away  from  all  affec- 
tion and  kindness.  In  my  youth  I could  not  patiently  bear  it, 
and  gave  way  to  those  fearful  outbursts  of  passion  of  which  I 
have  told  you.  If  my  father  were  living,  things  might  be 
different,  for  I have  heard  that  he  was  a good  man.  My  brother 
I have  never  seen,  and  I suppose  he  does  not  dream  of  such  a 
thing  as  a relative  like  me ; and  while  my  mother  not  onlj  can- 
not bear  the  sight  of  her  crippled  son,  she  is  also  ambitious  that 
the  one  who  is  a credit  to  her  should  profit  by  all  the  advantages  i 
possible.  I have  heard  that  my  brother,  like  my  father,  is  a 
true  and  noble  man,  and  I long  to  know  him,  and  there  has  ■ 
always  been  a faint  hope  in  my  heart  that  that  longing  might  be  - 
gratified.  My  first  thought  when  I resolved  to  release  you  to-  ^ 
night,  was  that  perhaps  the  event  might  open  a way  of  escape  ^ 


HERBERT  RANDAL, 


373 


for  me  also,  and  that  I could  go  away  by  myself  and  no  one 
ever  know  who  I am.  But  your  connection  with  Lady  Ruxley, 
and  your  having  been  an  inmate  of  the  family,  will  make  it 
necessary  that  my  agency  in  the  matter  be  explained.  Of  course, 
in  order  to  justify  yourself,  you  will  have  to  tell  how  you  came 
to  be  shut  up,  and  the  next  inquiry  will  be,  ^how  did  you  get 
out?^ 

* ‘'I  see,”  said  Brownie,  with  curling  lips  ; '"and  if  I proclaim 
the  fact  that  a young  man  by  the  name  of  Herbert  Randal,  who 
has  also  been  kept  a close  prisoner  for  over  twenty  years  by  a 
heartless  mother’s  decree,  liberated  me,  it  is  going  to  make  it 
very  uncomfortable  for  Lady  Randal.  Pardon  me,”  she  added, 
flushing  a lovely  color,  and  dropping  the  scorn  out  of  her  voice, 
‘‘but  I honestly  believe  the  time  has  come  when  it  is  right 
that  the  world  should  know  of  your  existence,  and  that  you 
should  know  something  of  your  kindred  and  the  world  in  which 
you  live.  It  is  fearful  to  think  that  you  have  never  been  outside 
these  walls  !”  she  concluded,  indignantly. 

sometimes  go  to  a little  old  chapel,  which  incloses  one 
side  of  the  little  court  of  which  I have  spoken.  It  must  have 
been  a beautiful  place  before  it  was  abandoned  for  the  larger 
ones,  and  left  to  fall  to  decay.  I found  an  entrance  to  it 
through  the  vaults,  and  I sometimes  go  there  to  read.  I might 
have  escaped  long  ago  in  that  way  had  it  not  been  for  my  tutor, 
whom  I knew  would  be  reduced  to  the  most  abject  poverty  if 
" deprived  of  his  situation,  and  so- pity  has  kept  me  here.” 

“But  you  might  go  out  and  assert  your  rights.  Of  course,  a 
portion  of  all  this  property  would  fall  to  you,  and  then  you  could 
see  that  he  did  not  suffer,”  interposed  Brownie. 

“Yes,  I might  do  that,  and  perhaps  thereby  gain  the  hatred 
of  my  brother.  I want  his  love — oh,  I crave  the  love  of  some 
human  being !”  he  cried,  almost  passionately ; then  added, 
reverently  : “And  so  I am  waiting  God’s  time  to  give  me  what 
is  best,  ” 


374 


HERBERT  RANDAL. 


He  has  sent  you  a friend  at  all  events,  if  you  will  allow  me 
to  be  such,'^  Brownie  said,  impulsively,  and  reaching  out  her 
hand  to  him,  while  two  bright  tears  rolled  over  her  flushed 
cheeks  and  dropped  upon  her  black  dress,  where  they  glittered 
like  diamonds  set  in  jet. 

‘'Ah  1 then  this  is  the  beginning  of  good  things  for  me,  and 
I will  accept  it  as  a precious  omen,”  he  replied,  clasping  her 
hand  warmly,  and  his  eyes  lighted  with  a deep  and  sudden  joy. 
"I  do  not  mean  to  complain,”  he  added,  a moment  after,  "for 
I have  many  things  to  be  thankful  for,  and  I thank  my  Maker 
every  day  that  He  gave  me  this  ugly  body  rather  than  a blunted 
intellect ; for  the  latter  I can  cultivate  and  enjoy  here,  while  He 
will  give  me  a glorified  body  in  the  future  when  He  calls  me 
into  His  kingdom.  I have  other  comforts,  too.  Lady  Randal 
provides  bountifully  for  me.  I have  my  books,  and  moderately 
good  health,  though  that  would  be  better,  I think,  if  I could  be 
more  in  the  air.  But  I try  to  feel  that  all  my  privations  are  sent 
to  teach  me  some  great  lesson  in  life,  and  fit  me  for  better 
things.  ” 

Brownie  felt  that  he  had  indeed  learned  more  than  one  great 
lesson  in  life  in  the  faith  and  patience  which  his  words  betrayed, 
and  she  could  scarcely  refrain  from  weeping  as  she  looked  into 
his  face,  which  seemed  almost  glorified  at  that  moment  by  the 
beautiful  spirit  within  him. 

She  sat  in  deep  and  perplexed  thought  for  several  minutes. 
There  were  evidently  only  two  things  which  she  could  do  ; 
either  leave  the  Hall  altogether  and  hide,  as  Mrs.  Coolidge  had 
proposed,  letting  her  disappearance  still  remain  a mystery,  or 
boldly  face  them  all,  and  let  the  guilty  suffer  for  their  own 
wrong-doing. 

And  still,  should  the  fact  become  known  that  Lady  Randal 
b&d  such  a son,  and  had  wickedly  concealed  it,  depriving  him 
«>f  all  that  makes  life  worth  the  living  for  so  many  years,  what  a 
tempest  it  would  raise  about  her  head  I and,  if  she  were  capable 


HERBERT  RANDAL. 


375 

of  such  a crime,  might  she  not  do  worse  and  wreak  fetal  ven- 
geance upon  her  already  unhappy  victim  ? 

Should  she  go  away  and  hide  ? 

For  a moment,  as  she  looked  into  that  patient,  sullenng  race 
opposite  her,  she  thought  she  would,  as  it  was  evident  that  he 
was  much  more  disturbed  as  to  the  issue  of  the  matter  than  he 
liked  to  own. 

But,  Adrian  ! What  would  he  think  of  her  stealing  away  and 
hiding  herself  from  him  } 

And  she  knew  well  enough  if  she  should  make  these  things 
known  to  him  he  would  instantly  take  measures  to  right  this 
terrible  wrong.  She  knew  he  would  not  allow  it  to  remain 
onger  concealed.  She  began  to  grow  very  nervous  about  the 
dilemma. 

Herbert  Randal  read  something  of  these  struggles  in  her 
troubled  face. 

do  not  see  that  there  is  but  one  course  for  you  to  pursue, 
Miss  Douglas,’'  he  said,  '^and  that  is  to  explain  everything  in  a 
straightforward  way.  Perhaps  if  you  could  conceal  the  fact 
from  all  but  the  immediate  family  that  it  was  Lady  Randal’s  son 
who  released  you,  it  might  save  some  scandal.  " 

‘^Do  you  not  think  it  right  and  just  that  that  fact  be  made 
known  V’  Brownie  asked,  gravely,  adding  ; ' ' I shall  never  rest 
content  until  I know  you  are  at  liberty  to  go  and  come  at  your 
own  will  and  pleasure,  and  have  your  rights. " 

“You  are  very  kind;  but  when  the  proper  time  comes,  there 
is  One  who  will  see  to  it  that  justice  is  done. " 

“Yes,  and  I think  He  has  taken  this  way  to  accomplish  it — 
Me  has  sent  me  to  be  your  liberator,"  she  said,  smiling. 

“Like  the  angel  to  Peter,"  he  replied,  quickly,  his  eyes  de- 
vouring her  lovely  face  as  if  he  almost  deemed  her  an  angel. 
He  had  never  seen  aught  so  beautiful  before. 

“I  don’t  know,"  he  added,  wistfully ; “it  may  be  this  is  the 
way  it  is  to  be  done.  However,  I shall  leave  it  all  to  your  own 


I13RBERT  RaMDAL. 


376 

judgment  If  it  is  necessary  to  establish  your  character  and  justi'. 
fy  yourself,  of  course  the  secret  will  have  to  come  out  You  can 
judge  how  much  of  an  explanation  will  be  necessary  as  soon  as 
you  return  to  the  Hall.  And  now,  as  daylight  is  approaching, 
will  you  trust  yourself  to  me  a little  longer?  I shall  be  obliged 
to  take  you  from  here  by  a secret  way,  since  the  other  doors  are 
all  locked,  and  the  professor  has  the  keys  in  his  keeping.'" 

‘'Certainly,  I shall  trust  you,'"  Brownie  replied,  frankly. 

“Are  your  nerves  strong?'"  he  asked,  with  a grave,  troubled 
fece. 

“Oh,  yes,"'  she  returned,  smiling,  yet  wondering  if  some  new 
adventure  awaited  her. 

“You  remember  I told  you  that  I sometimes  go  to  a little 
old  chapel,  and  that  the  entrance  to  it  from  here  is  through  the 
vaults — it  was  through  the  dead  vaults^  I meant. " 

“Ah  !"  exclaimed  the  young  girl,  growing  pale  and  sick  wiC'h 
the  thought,  and  she  shivered  as  if  an  icy  hand  had  touched 
her. 

“I  was  afraid  you  would  shrink  from  it,  but  there  is  na 
other  way,  and  it  would  not  do  for  you  to  remain  here  much 
longer,  for  the  servants  will  soon  be  in.  If  you  would  blind- 
fold your  eyes,  I could  lead  you,  and  you  need  not  experience 
anything  unpleasant,"  he  suggested,  timidly. 

“No,"  she  returned,  with  a proud  uplifting  of  her  small  head ; 
“it  will  undoubtedly  be  very  unpleasant,  but  I know  the  dead 
cannot  harm  me  ; and  you  say  you  have  been  this  way  before?" 

“Yes,  many  times." 

“Then  let  us  go  at  once  and  have  it  over  witK^^  she  answered, 
rising,  and  he  saw  her  shiver  again. 

He  took  the  candle,  and  sweeping  aside  a portion  of  the 
tapestry  hangings,  revealed  an  iron  door.  He  asked  her  ta 
draw  back  the  bolt  and  push  the  door  open. 

She  did  so,  and  saw  a flight  of  stone  steps. 


BROWNIE  LIBERATED. 


377 

He  limped  down  these,  she  following,  and  soon  came  to 
what  appeared  a grated  window. 

He  told  her  to  slide  back  the  grating,  when  she  would  see 
another  bolt  which  fastened  the  window. 

She  obeyed,  and  slipping  the  bolt,  the  window  swung  open 
’on  hinges,  when,  descending  two  or  three  more  steps,  they 
found  themselves  in  what  he  had  called  a court,  but  what  was 
in  reality  a small,  ancient  burying-ground,  surrounded  on  three 
sides  by  the  walls  of  the  Hall,  and  on  the  fourth  by  that  of  the 
old  chapel. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

BROWNIE  LIBERATED. 

^‘You  would  not  suppose  that  Vallingham  Hall  concealed 
such  a spot  in  its  very  heart,  would  you?''  Herbert  Randal 
asked,  as  they  stepped  into  the  court. 

‘‘No;  it  is  an  enigma  to  me  even  now." 

“Where  you  have  been  to-night  is  a portion  of  the  original 
buildings.  The  chapel  and  the  Hall  have  been  built  around 
this  square,  and,  as  you  perceive,  there  are  no  windows  over- 
looking the  place,  which  was  once  used  as  a burial  ground, 
although  nearly  all  evidences  of  that  have  disappeared." 

“Take  care  !"  he  cried,  as  she  stumbled  and  nearly  fell  over 
a grave;  “I  did  not  think  we  were  so  near  that.  It  seems 
strange  that  it  should  remain  when  all  the  others  have  disap- 
peared. " 

He  halted  for  her,  for  her  sudden  fall,  the  weird  place,  to- 


378 


BROWNIE  LIBERATED. 


gether  with  the  night  of  excitement,  made  her  so  weak  and 
trembling  that  she  could  scarcely  walk. 

‘^Are  you  hurt.?''  he  asked,  pityingly. 

She  shook  her  head  and  tried  to  smile  courageously,  but  he 
saw  that  her  lips  were  white  and  quivering. 

He  realized  at  that  moment  more  keenly  than  ever  before  his 
own  helplessness,  and  he  longed  with  a bitter  agony  for  that 
physical  strength  and  activity  which  he  had  been  so  cruelly  de- 
prived of.  He  could  not  even  offer  to  assist  her,  for  it  was  as 
much  as  he  could  do  to  carry  the  candle  and  keep  his  own 
equilibrium. 

fear  you  are  not  able  to  go  on,"  he  said,  gently,  as  he 
waited  for  her  to  recover  her  breath. 

'‘Yes,  yes;  let  us  hasten,  please,  for  I feel  anxious  to  get  out 
of  this  dreadful  place  as  soon  as  possible, " she  answered,  as  she 
tried  to  brace  herself  anew  for  what  was  to  come,  though  she 
was  so  nervous  she  felt  that  it  would  not  take  very  much  to 
make  her  shriek  aloud. 

It  was  beginning  to  be  light  overhead,  but,  hemmed  in  by 
those  towering  walls,  the  place,  with  its  deep-tangled  grass,  and 
damp,  moldy  smell,  was  fearfully  gloomy  and  ghostly,  while 
her  guide,  with  his  misshapen  form,  and  his  white  waving  hair, 
his  haggard  face,  rendered  more  ghastly  still  in  the  flickering, 
uncertain  light  of  the  candle  which  he  bore,  made  it  seem  like 
some  haunted  spot  in  which  restless  spirits  roamed  at  will,  and 
Brownie,  her  teeth  chattering,  and  every  nerve  quaking,  found 
herself  repeating  those  startling  words  of  Shakespeare : 

“A  tale  of  sorrow,  for  your  eyes  may  weep  ; 

A tale  of  horror,  for  your  flesh  may  creep  ; 

A tale  of  wonder,  for  the  eyebrows  arch ; 

And  the  flesh  curdles  if  you  read  it  rightly  T* 

When  they  reached  the  chapel  there  was  another  grating  Uf 
be  removed,  another  window,  from  which  nearly  every  pane  of 


BROWNIE  LIBERATED, 


379 

glass  had  disappeared,  to  be  opened,  and  they  came  to  another 
flight  of  stone  steps. 

These  they  descended  cautiously,  for  they  were  becoming 
loosened  from  their  place,  and  were  falling  to  ruin,  and  soon 
found  themselves  in  a vaulted  cavern,  dismal  and  gloomy  enough 
for  the  dwelling-place  of  the  dead. 

The  candle  flickered  .and  flared,  giving  an  uncertain  light, 
but  Brownie  could  see  the  numerous  shelves  which  were  ranged 
along  the  side,  each  containing  a silent  occupant,  in  its  moldy^ 
worm-eaten  coffin. 

A gasp  of  fear  told  young  Randal  something  of  what  his  com- 
panion was  suffering. 

He  halted  at  the  foot  of  the  steps,  and  said,  regretfully  : 

‘‘Miss  Douglas,  nothing  but  necessity  would  ever  compel 
me  to  bring  a delicate  lady  into  such  a dreadful  place ; and 
now,  if  I can  only  persuade  you  to  put  your  hand  upon  my 
arm,  and  close  your  eyes,  I will  guide  you  safely  through  this 
vault,  and  you  need  never  realize  what  is  in  it.'' 

“ Thank  you.  I will  take  your  arm,  if  you  please — I shall 
feel  a little  less  lonely ; but  I think  I shall  need  my  eyes  to  see 
where  to  step,  and  I will  try  not  to  annoy  you  with  my  cow- 
ardice any  more,  though  the  sight  of  a coffin  always  did  strike 
terror  to  my  heart,*'  Brownie  answered,  her  teeth  still  chat- 
tering. 

She  laid  her  hand  lightly  upon  his  arm,  and  he  thrilled  at  the 
touch. 

It  was  a new  and  strange  experience  for  the  lonely  boy,  and 
one  which  he  long  lived  upon  in  remembrance. 

The  abode  of  the  dead  was  soon  traversed,  and  they  came  to 
still  another  flight  of  steps. 

Herbert  Randal,  mounting  them  first,  lifted  a trap-door,  and, 
setting  his  candle  down,  reached  his  hand  to  Brownie,  and  in 
another  moment  she  was  standing  safe^  but  nearly  exhausted, 
within  the  altar  of  the  chapel. 


380 


jSROIVNIE  liberated. 


It  was  a very  ancient-looking  structure,  and  apparently  had 
the  capacity  of  seating  about  a hundred  people.  It  must  once 
have  been  a pleasant,  attractive  place,  but  neglect  and  decay 
were  fast  doing  their  work. 

' The  young  man  made  her  sit  down  and  rest,  while  he  talked 
cheerfully  and  interestingly  of  the  place,  hoping  thus  to  inm 
her  mind  from  the  horrors  through  which  they  had  just  passed. 

After  a while  he  arose,  crossed  the  chancel,  and  led  the  way 
to  a small  side  door,  whose  key  was  in  the  lock. 

This  he  turned  and  pushed  the  door  open,  letting  in  the  fresh 
breath  of  morning. 

The  relief  which  Brownie  experienced  was  expressed  by  a 
long-drawn  sigh,  and,  looking  up  into  her  companion  s face, 
she  smiled  a wan,  forced  smile,  as  she  said  : 

‘T  fear  you  will  think  me  very  cowardly,  but  indeed  my 
nerves  were  nearly  unstrung  by  excitement  and  anxiety  before 
this  last  experience.'" 

‘'Do  not  speak  of  it;  I am  sure  you  have  borne  it  bravely. 
And  now,  if  you  will  follow  that  path,”  he  added,  pointing  it 
out  to  her,  “it  will  lead  you  directly  through  this  grove,  around 
to  the  front  of  the  Hall,  where  I think  you  will  find  no  diffi- 
culty now  in  entering.  ” 

“Thank  you.  And,  Mr.  Randal,  I feel  that  I owe  you  a 
great  deal.  I trust  it  will  not  be  long  before  we  shall  meet 
again  under  happier  circumstances,  ” Brownie  said,  heartily,  as 
she  held  out  her  little  trembling  hand  to  him. 

He  took  it,  while  an  expression  of  infinite  sadness  swept  over 
his  face,  as  he  replied  : 

“If  Hi  wills  it,  we  shall;  if  otherwise,  the  memory  of  this 
night  will  sweeten  all  my  future  life — to  think  that  I have  at 
least  once  been  able  to  help  a fellow-being — I,  who  have  always 
deemed  myself  so  useless  and  almost  accursed.” 

“Mr.  Randal,”  the  young  girl  returned,  veiy  gravely,  yet 
earnestly,  “it  pains  me  to  hear  you  speak  thus.  You  have  done 


BRO  WNIE  LIBERA  TED.  38 1 

more  good  than  you  think  to-night.  I have  often  murmured 
at  my  own  lot  in  life,  which  has  been  by  no  means  sniooth 
during  the  past  year,  but  you  have  taught  me  a lesson  in 
patience,  sweetness,  and  faith  which  I shall  never  forget. 

His  face  flushed,  and  his  eyes  lighted  with  a beautiful  ra- 
diance. 

‘‘Your  words  are  very  pleasant,"'  he  said,  gently;  then  added, 
hesitatingly,  yearningly:  *‘You  say  you  will  never  forget  the 
hsson,  as  you  call  it,  but,  if  I may  be  so  bold,  will  you  give  a 
kindly  thought  now  and  then  to  one  whose  future  can  never  be 
so  bright  as  I hope  yours  may  be 

How  like  a funeral  knell  his  words  sounded,  as  if  hope  were 
dead  within  him ; yet,  withal,  how  submissive  and  resigned  he 
was,  as  if  beyond  and  over  all  earthly  sorrows  his  soul  cleaved 
to  an  unseen  hand  which  was  lifting  him  above  the  deep  waters 
which  had  well-nigh  overwhelmed  him. 

shall  always  remember  you,  and  I believe  we  shall  meet 
again,"  Brownie  said,  with  quivering  lips  and  eyes  which  were 
swimming  in  tears. 

He  bent  and  touched  her  hand  with  his  lips,  then,  with  a 
murmured  farewell,  he  closed  the  door  and  v/ent  back  to  his 
loneliness  and  desolation,  leaving  Brownie  standing  alone  in 
the  gray  dawn,  a strange,  deep  teirderness  in  her  heart  for  this 
poor  sufferer,  whom  God  had  stricken  so  heavily. 

She  leaned  wearily  against  the  door  and  looked  about  her. 
She  felt  tenfold  more  dreary  than  when  she  had  been  shut  within 
the  cell,  for  she  was  still  in  some  doubt  as  to  what  was  best  for 
her  to  do,  and  as  to  what  her  reception  would  be  if  she  should 
return  to  the  Hall. 

She  was  cold,  and  weak,  and  faint,  and  it  was  quite  a dis- 
tance around  to  the  front  of  the  Hall,  but,  after  a few  mo- 
ments spent  in  deliberation,  she  turned  into  the  path  leading 
through  the  grove. 

The  morning  was  cloudy  and  misty,  and  within  the  shadow 


58j 


BROWNIE  LIBERATED. 


of  the  trees,  most  of  which  were  spruce  and  pine,  the  gloom 
was  most  oppressive,  while  the  keen  air  pierced  her  scant  cloth- 
ing, chilling  her  through  and  through. 

She  had  not  gone  many  steps  when  the  crackling  of  twigs 
made  her  start  nervously  and  look  around  her,  and  her  heart 
stood  still  with  fear  as  she  beheld  the  figure  of  a man,  enveh 
'oped  in  a long,  dark  cloak,  coming  toward  her  with  rapid 
steps. 

She  stopped,  her  heart  beating  like  a trip-hammer,  and 
stepped  behind  a tree,  hoping  he  had  not  observed  her,  and 
would  pass  on  without  noticing  her. 

Vain  Jiope ! The  figure  quickened  his  steps,  coming  directly 
toward  the  spot  where  she  stood. 

What  to  do  she  knew  not. 

If  she  attempted  to  fly  he  could  easily  overtake  her.  If  she 
remained  where  she  was,  and  harm  came  to  her,  no  one  could 
kear  her  cries  and  come  to  her  aid. 

She  felt  that  her  strength  was  failing,  the  strafh  had  been  so 
great  upon  her  nerves  during  the  last  twelve  hours  that  she 
knew  she  could  not  endure  much  more ; but  she  resolved  to 
meet  this  new  clanger  as  bravely  as  possible,  and,  stepping  forth 
from  her  hiding-place,  she  went  forward  with  dizzy  brain  and 
bated  breath. 

Another  moment  and  she  found  herself  face  to  t^e  with  hm 
lover,  Adrian  Dredmondi 


CONSTERNATION  OF  THE  COOUDGES^ 


m 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

CONSTERNATION  OF  THE  COOLIS5GES. 


During  all  those  hours  so  full  of  adventure  to  Brownie,  Mrs. 
Coolidge  and  Isabel  had  been  sleeping  heavily,  for  both  had 
been  well-nigh  overcome  with  the  excitement  of  the  evening 
previous,  and  a sense  of  their  own  guilt  in  the  matter  of  the 
young  companions  disappearance. 

They  did  not  wake  until  quite  late  the  next  morning,  when 
Mrs.  Coolidge's  first  act  was  to  order  a good  hot  breakfast,  tell- 
ing the  servant  that  she  did  not  feel  able  to  go  down  to  eat  with 
the  family. 

As  soon  as  the  servant  departed,  and  she  was  assured  that  the 
guests  were  all  assembled  in  the  dining-room,  she  crept  into 
Isabel  s room,  and  together  tliey  sought  their  prisoner. 

They  drew  the  bolt,  and  pushed  the  door  open  cautiously. 
All  was  silent  and  dark  within,  for  the  candle  had  burned  down 
to  the  socket,  and  then  gone  out. 

They  entered  and  called  Brownie  by  name. 

There  was  no  reply,  and  with  a nameless  fear  in  her  heart, 
Isabel  rushed  back  into  her  own  room,  lighted  another  candle, 
and  returned  to  explore  the  cell. 

One  glance  served  to  show  that  it  was  empty ! 

But  with  the  vain  hope  that  all  guilty  people  have  they  began 
turning  over  the  mattress  and  bed-clothes  as  if  they  expected  to 
find  her  concealed  underneath  them. 

Then  with  horror,  guilt,  and  remorse  written  on  their  faces, 
they  stood  transfixed  and  gazing  upon  each  other  in  helpless 
dismay. 


384  CONSTERNATION  OF  THE  COOLIDGES. 


Where  can  she  be?^'  gasped  Isabel,  white  as  the  wrapper 
which  she  wore,  and  shaking  as  with  the  ague. 

Mrs.  Coolidge  shook  her  head  and  looked  up  at  the  small 
grated  window  above  them. 

She  mounted  upon  the  chair,  and  seizing  one  of  the  heavy 
bars,  shook  it. 

It  did  not  so  much  as  move,  and  even  had  it  been  possible  to 
remove  it  their  captive  could  not  possibly  have  reached  the  win- 
dow to  escape,  it  w^as  set  so  high  in  the  wall. 

She  then  searched  every  nook  and  corner  for  some  other  out- 
let from  the  place ; but  although  she  stopped  before  each  of 
those  four  small  pillars,  and  pounded  upon  them  with  her 
hands,  she  did  not  discover  anything  which  had  the  least  appear- 
ance of  a way  of  escape,  and  at  last,  with  a cry  of  despair,  she 
exclaimed  : 

Isabel,  I firmly  believe  that  girl  is  a witch,  for  none  but  a 
spirit  could  have  escaped  from  this  dungeon 

Mamma,'*'  exclaimed  her  daughter,  suddenly,  '‘I  do  not 
believe  you  fastened  the  door  last  night,  and  she  came  out  when 
we  were  asleep !" 

''How  foolish  you  are,"  was  the  impatient  reply.  "lam 
very  sure  that  I shoved  the  bolt,  and  I do  not  believe  it  possi- 
ble that  she  could  have  worked  upon  the  door  in  any  way  to 
have  slipped  it  back." 

However,  to  satisfy  themselves,  they  went  out,  shut  and  bolted 
the  door,  and  then  tried,  by  gently  working  it  back  and  forth, 
to  see  if  the  bolt  would  slip. 

No ; it  remained  firm  and  tight,  and  the  matter  still  continued 
to  be  a mystery,  and  a terribly  tantalizing  one,  too. 

They  tried  all  the  different  doors  leading  from  their  own 
rooms  into  the  corridors,  but  all  were  locked,  excepting  the  one 
by  which  the  servant  who  had  brought  the  breakfast  had  entered, 
and  Mrs.  Coolidge  had  been  obliged  to  rise  to  admit  her,  50 


COmTEJ^A^ATION  OF  THE  COOL/DGES.  385 


that  they  knew  it  could  not  have  been  possible  for  Brownie  td 
have  escaped  that  way. 

They  were  stunned  and  bewildered,  for  it  was  a circumstance 
entirely  beyond  their  comprehension,  and  it  was  with  quaking 
hearts,  and  white,  worn  faces,  that  they  at  length  prepared  to 
join  the  family  below,  expecting  they  should  be  overwhelmed 
by  something  terrible. 

They  knew  well  enough  if  Brownie  had  escaped  and  returned 
to  her  post,  that  the  deepest  shame  and  disgrace  awaited  them. 

They  little  thought,  however,  during  their  anxious  and  almost 
ludicrous  search  in  the  cell,  a pair  of  keen,  bright  eyes  had  been 
earnestly  regarding  them,  while  it  must  be  confessed  that  Her- 
bert Randal  never  enjoyed  anything  in  his  life  so  much  as  their 
anxiety  and  discomfiture  regarding  the  beautiful  maiden  whom 
he  had  so  opportunely  aided. 

The  two  disappointed  plotters  were,  however,  somewhat  reas- 
sured, upon  descending  to  the  drawing-room,  to  find  that 
Brownie's  disappearance  was  still  the  theme  of  conversation, 
together  with  the  startling  announcement  which  , Adrian  Dred- 
mond  had  made. 

Lady  Randal  looked  anxious  and  annoyed,  and  was  some- 
what irritable. 

Lady  Ruxley  was  too  ill  to  rise,  being  overcome  with  solici- 
tude as  to  the  fate  of  her  companion,  a fact  which  was  received 
with  the  most  cheerful  resignation  by  most  of  the  company, 
since  it  relieved  them  from  the  sting  of  her  sharp  tongue. 

Sir  Charles  was  very  grave  and  preoccupied,  and  while  he  was 
not  exactly  cool,  yet  there  was  a certain  dignity  about  him  which 
somewhat  awed  his  betrothed.  There  were  some  things  which 
he  could  not  understand,  in  particular,  Adrian’s  stern  words 
and  manner  to  Mrs.  Coolidge,  which  the  more  he  thought 
about  them  the  more  mysterious  and  inexplicable  they  became. 

Altogether  it  was  not  the  happiest  company  in  Christendom 


386  CONSTERNATION  OF  THE  COOLIDGSS. 

that  assembled  in  the  Vallingham  Hall  drawing-room  that 
morning. 

Eveiy  door  that  opened  made  Isabel  and  her  mother  quake 
with  fear,  and  both  would  gladly  have  given  up  every  jewel  in 
their  possession  to  have  been  freed  from  that  horrible  suspense. 

Several  days  passed,  and  still  there  was  no  news.  Their 
anxiety  began  to  abate,  and  with  every  passing  hour  they 
breathed  more  freely,  yet  that  puzzling,  wearing  question  was 
ever  before  them  : 

‘‘Where  is  she.?'' 

The  drawing-room  concert,  or  musical  soiree,  came  off  ac- 
cording to  appointment,  but  did  not  prove  very  satisfactory.  It 
was  not  really  a failure,  but  there  was  a lack  of  inspiration 
which  made  everything  drag,  and  it  was  with  a uniform  sense  of 
relief  that  at  the  end  of  the  week  the  gay  company  dispersed, 
while  Sir  Charles,  Lady  Randal,  Isabel,  and  her  mother  de- 
parted for  Paris,  intent  upon  the  all-important  trousseau. 

The  two  latter  were  only  too  eager  to  plunge  into  the  plea- 
sures of  the  ^ay  French  metropolis,  and  busy  themselves  with 
the  cares  which  the  next  few  weeks  would  involve,  hoping  thus 
to  drive  more  unpleasant  thoughts  out  of  mind. 

>|c  >K 

When  Adrian  Dredmond  recognized  his  betrothed  in  the  dim 
light  of  that  dismal  morning,  he  sprang  forward  with  a cry  of 
joy,  mingled  with  dismay,  and  folded  her  close  within  his  arms, 
while  Brownie,  utterly  overcome  by  the  reaction  from  excessive 
fright  to  a sense  of  security,  and  that  her  troubles  were  all  over, 
burst  into  nervous  sobbing,  and  clung  to  him  with  a grip  Sa 
iBerce  that  he  was  startled. 

“My  darling,  my  darling,  what  does  all  this  mean?"  he 
asked,  soothingly. 

But  she  could  not  tell  him ; the  floodgates  were  open,  and 
the  storm  must  spend  itself  ere  the  calm  would  come ; the  re- 
straint which  she  had  imposed  upon  herself  had  been  so  resolute 


COmTERNATJON  OF  THE  COOLIDGES,  387 


and  of  such  long  duration  that,  now  she  had  once  given  the  rein 
to  her  feelings,  it  was  not  easy  to  regain  her  self-control. 

“My  precious  one,''  Adrian  continued,  have  been  search- 
ing for  you  all  night  long.  I came  hither  to  see  you  last  even- 
ing, and  they  told  me  you  had  disappeared  in  the  most  myste- 
rious manner.  Not  knowing  which  way  to  turn  to  find  you,  I 
started  for  Dunforth  again  in  despair,  but  something  seemed  to 
be  holding  me  back,  and  I have  roamed  over  the  park  and  the 
forest,  the  highways  and  byways,  all  night.  As  daylight  ap- 
proached, I resolved  to  return  to  the  Hall  and  inquire  if  any 
clew  had  been  gained  during  the  night,  and  then  I saw  you 
coming  through  this  grove.  Dearest,  how  cold  you  are,"  he 
added,  tenderly,  “and  how  you  tremble.  Did  I frighten  you.? 
Come  back  into  the  shadow  of  yonder  chapel,  and  tell  m@  how 
it  is  that  I find  you  thus  alone  and  unprotected  from  the  cold 
night  air." 

He  wrapped  his  cloak  about  her,  for  the  mist  was  settling 
down  into  a fine  rain,  while  the  air  grew  more  piercing  and 
chill,  and  he  almost  bore  her  back  to  the  door  of  the  old  chapel, 
where  they  were  screened  from  observation  and  protected  some- 
what from  the  wind. 

Then  he  strove  to  comfort  her  by  every  fond  and  endearing 
epithet  which  he  could  think  of. 

He  chafed  the  little  icy,  quivering  hands,  and  kissed  the 
warmth  and  color  back  to  her  pale  cheeks.  But  it  was  long 
before  she  was  herself  again,  for  now  that  she  realized  that  she 
was  safe,  her  strength  all  forsook  her,  and  she  lay  almost  lifeless 
in  his  arms.  But  at  last  she  was  able  to  whisper  something  of 
the  story  of  her  fearful  experience,  and  a mighty  wrath  arose  in 
his  heart  against  the  authors  of  it  all. 

“I  mistrusted  they  might  have  had  some  hand  in  it  last 
night,  but  they  shall  pay  dearly  for  this  shameless  insult  to  you, 
my  dearest,"  he  muttered,  between  his  set  teeth. 

Then  he  became  suddenly  silent  and  thoughtful,  but  stiH 


388  CONSTERNATION’  OF  THE  COOLIDGES, 

holding  her  in  his  loving  embrace,  until  she  grew  warm  and 
strong  again,  while  a sense  of  security  and  happiness  began 
steal  over  her,  until  she  felt  that  she  could  return  to  the  Hall, 
if  need  be,  and  face  them  all  without  a tremor,  with  him  by 
her  side. 

But  he  had  been  revolving  other  matters  in  his  mind.  He 
had  been  greatly  startled  and  surprised  to  learn  that  Lady  Ran^ 
dal  had  another  son,  and  had  been  criminally  concealing  it  all 
these  years,  and  he  classed  her  with  the  others  as  a false  and 
heartless  woman. 

He  knew  that  Lady  Ruxley  was  very  fond  of  her  companion, 
but  he  knew  her  temperament,  and  was  unwilling  that  Brownie 
should  remain  longer  with  her  in  that  capacity,  while,  after  the 
events  which  had  so  recently  transpired,  he  did  not  deem  it 
wise  to  seek  her  as  a protector  for  the  young  girl,  as  he  had 
planned,  to  do,  for  any  length  of  time.  He  could  not  feel  safe 
about  her  while  the  Coolidges  were  near. 

Finally,  he  raised  the  beautiful  face  which  was  resting  against 
his  bosom,  and,  with  a look  of  infinite  tenderness,  asked  : 

''  Darling,  it  is  settled,  is  it  not,  that  you  belong  to  me  now 

^'Yes,  Adrian,  wholly.'' 

His  face  lighted  at  her  reply. 

'' An^  you  will  trust  me  fully,  from  this  time  forth  ?" 

‘H  trust  you  fully,"  and  the  little  hands  fluttered  confidingly 
in  his. 

He  drew  her  closer  within  his  arms. 

^'Then,  little  one — my  Brownie,  will  you  come  to  me  now, 
and  let  me  make  you  my  own  wife  to-day — or  at  least  as  soon 
as  that  is  possible  I feel  that  I cannot  allow  you  to  be  exposed 
to  such  suffering  and  insult  for  another  hour." 

He  felt  her  heart  leap  against  his  own  at  his  words,  but  she 
did  not  reply. 

‘‘Darling,"  he  questioned,  “am  I putting  your  love  and 
feith  in  me  to  too  severe  a test.^^" 


CONSTERNATION  OF  THE  COOLIDGES, 


''To-day!  so  soon — oh,  Adrian!''  she  whispered,  and  he 
could  see  wave  on  wave  of  rich  color  surging  up  over  her  lovely 

&ce. 

"Will  you  love  me  better  by  waiting  a week — a month — or 
ft  year  ?"  he  asked,  gravely. 

"No,  oh,  no!"  she  said,  quickly. 

"Can  you  bear  for  a moment  to  think  of  going  back  to  the 
old  life?" 

She  had  not  thought  of  its  being  repulsive  before,  but  it  sud- 
denly came  to  her  that  it  would  be  very  hard,  and  no  matter 
how  kind  Lady  Ruxley  might  be,  she  could  never  return  as  a 
servant  into  that  family  again. 

She  did  not  speak  the  thought,  but  she  nestled  closer  to  her 
lover,  and  he  answered  for  her  : 

"No,  dear,  you  cannot,  and  you  have  nowhere  else  on  earth 
to  go,  but  to  the  one  who  loves  you  best.  Brownie, " he  con- 
tinued, with  tender  authority,  "you  are  mine — you  have  freely 
given  yourself  to  me,  and  now  I am  not  willing  that  you  should 
go  back  to  face  those  wolves  until  I have  an  indisputable  right 
to  go  with  you  to  demand  proper  respect  for  you,  and  the  resti- 
tution of  your  property,  without  the  possibility  of  a repetition 
of  the  insult  and  suffering  to  which  you  have  heretofore  been 
subjected.  I know  all  the  objections  you  would  raise,"  he 
went  on.  "I  have  thought  them  all  over  carefully.  Lady 
Ruxley 's  anxiety  upon  your  account ; the  misconstruction  which 
will  be  put  upon  your  mysterious  absence ; the  notoriety  of  a 
clandestine  marriage,  etc.  But  I think  it  will  do  them  all  good 
to  suffer  a little  upon  your  account,  without  it  is  Lady  Ruxley. 
And  as  to  the  other  reasons,  I do  not  care  a straw  for  them.  In 
fact,  our  marriage  will  not  be  so  very  secret,  since  I announced 
the  fact  of  our  engagement  to  the  whole  company  assembled  in 
the  drawing-room  last  evening,  and  told  Sir  Charles  I shoaki 
marry  you  just  as  soon  as  possible." 


390 


CONSTERNATION  OF  THE  COOLIDGES. 


Adrian  ! did  you  do  that?''  demanded  Brownie,  looking  up 
astonished. 

Certainly  I did.  You  do  not  suppose  I could  sit  tamely  by 
and  listen  to  all  their  remarks  and  surmises  without  mak{;:.g  an 
effort  to  silence  them,  do  you?" 

^^But  it  was  very  brave  and  noble  in  you — few  would  have 
braved  public  opinion  like  that,"  and  she  lifted  her  red  lips  to 
give  him  a voluntary  kiss  of  gratitude. 

^'What  had  I to  brave,  my  darling?  I shall  be  proud  to  call 
you  by  that  dearest  name  in  the  world — wife  ; and  since  they  all 
know  now  that  I mean  to  make  you  such,  they  cannot  say  that 
you  have  run  away  with  me.  We  will  go  to  London  to-day.  I 
will  get  a special  license,  and  you  shall  be  my  wife  to-morrow." 

But — but — •"  she  began,  with  a troubled  face. 

‘‘No,  dear,"  he  interrupted,  smiling,  as  he  read  her  thought, 
“you  shall  not  go  alone  with  me.  My  old  nurse  and  her  daugh- 
ter shall  go  with  us  to  make  everything  proper.  Nurse  Clum 
will  do  anything  in  the  world  for  me,  and  keep  any  secret  I im 
trust  to  her.  Milly,  her  daughter,  has  long  been  trying  to  get 
a situation  as  lady's  maid,  and  we  will  make  one  for  her  at  once, 
thus  doing  a charitable  deed,  as  well  as  make  ourselves  happy. 
In  a week’s  time,  less  if  you  desire,  we  will  return  to  Vailing- 
ham  Hall,  claim  your  property,  and  right  that  other  wrong ; 
while  with  me  by  your  side,  you  will  be  freed  from  the  possi- 
bility of  insult  from  any  one.  Will  you  go  with  me,  dear?" 

“But  you  have  relatives,  I fear " 

“I  am  my  own  master,  my  darling,  and  no  one  can  say  m^ 
nay  upon  this  most  vital  point,"  he  replied,  gravely,  yet  with 
decision. 

“I  will  go. with  you,  Adrian,"  she  said,  simply. 

“Bless  you,  my  own!"  he  exclaimed,  joyfully,  then  added, 
in  tones  of  regret : “ It  is  not  a fitting  way  to  w^ed  you,  I know 
— not  as  I had  fondly  hoped  it  would  be,  when  I planned  to 
lead  you  before  my  friends,  and  wed  you  openly  as  befits  your 


CONSTERNATION  OF  THE  COOLIDGES. 


391 


Station  and  mine;  but/'  he  added,  lightly,  ''when  once  w6 
are  settled  we  will  make  a great  feast,  and  all  shall  do  honor  td 
my  wife.  But  we  must  not  delay  longer  if  we  would  escape 
observation.  But  first,  I have  something  for  you — I brought  it 
last  evening. " He  then  took  the  ring  from  his  pocket  and  put 
it  upon  her  finger,  saying  as  he  did  so  : " There,  that  seals  our 
vows  so  far. " 

He  then  took  his  cloak  from  his  own  shoulders,  and  wrap- 
ping it  closely  about  her,  led  her  by  an  unfrequented  path  to 
the  spot  where  he  had  left  his  carriage. 

He  drove  directly  to  Nurse  Cl  urn's,  where,  giving  his  be- 
trothed into  Milly's  hands  to  be  fed  and  cared  for,  he  secured  a 
private  interview  with  the  former,  told  her  his  plans,  and  what 
he  thought  necessary  of  the  circumstances  which  seemed  to 
make  them  advisable. 

The  faithful  old  nurse  shook  her  head  when  he  told  her  that 
he  was  braving  his  grandfather’s  displeasure  ; but  she  saw  he 
was  determined  upon  the  course  he  had  marked  out,  and  she 
could  not  say  him  nay. 

Milly  was  delighted  at  the  prospect  of  being  lady's  maid  ta 
a bride,  and  was  charmed  with  the  i^weet  lady  who  was  to  ba 
Master  Adrian's  wife. 

They  took  as  early  a train  as  possible  from  West  Mailing,  in 
order  to  escape  observation,  and  before  noon'they  were  all  com- 
fortably settled  in  London.  Brownie  and  her  two  companions 
having  an  elegant  suite  of  rooms  at  the  Langham  Hotel  in 
Portland  Place,  the  most  fashionable  quarter  of  the  city,  while 
Adrian  returned  to  his  own  private  apartments  in  St.  James 
street. 

Before  sundown  he  had  procured  the  special  license,  and  be- 
lieved himself  the  happiest  man  alive;  the  only  cloud  being 
the  disapproval  of  his  grandfather,  and  this  he  trusted  that  time 
would  overcome. 

Meantime  Brownie,  in  company  with  Milly,  visited  % fashion- 


392 


LADY  DUNFORTWS  VISIT. 


able  ladies'  furnishing-house,  and  procured  the  most  suitable 
outfit  it  was  possible  to  procure  at  so  short  a notice,  and  gave 
orders  for  several  other  articles  of  appar<fl  which  she  would 
need  in  the  future. 

The  next  morning  a quiet  little  wedding-party  alighted  at 
St  George’s  Church,  Hanover  Square,  at  eleven  o’clock,  and 
leading  his  beautiful  betrothed  proudly  up  the  grand  aisle, 
Adrian  Dredmond  stopped  before  Ihe  gray-haired  rector,  and  the 
twain  were  made  one. 

It  was  a very  sweet  but  solemn  face  which  looked  up  into 
Adrian’s  when  he  paused  a mmaent  in  the  vestibule  and  whis- 
pered, tenderly  : 

‘‘God  bless  my  own  wife 

But  her  eyes,  as  he  pressed  that  first  kiss  upon  her  lips,  were 
full  of  happiness  and  trust,  and  he  knew  that  he  had  it  in  his 
power  to  make  her  life  very  bright.  It  was  well  for  him,  how- 
ever, that  he  had  not  betrayed  to  her  the  fact  of  his  grandfather’s 
disapproval,  nor  what  he  was  likely  to  forfeit  by  his  alliance  with 
her,  else  all  the  pride  of  a royal  race  would  have  risen  within 
her,  and  that  fai?  April  day  would  no/  have  seen  Brownie  Doug- 
las Adrian  > Vedmond’s  bride  I 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

LADY  DUNFORTh’s  VISIT. 

Adrian  Dredmond,  as  he  had  stated  to  his  grandfather  when 
he  so  wrathfully  opposed  his  mariying,  was  not  quite  a beggar  ; 
indeed,  he  was  entirely  independent  of  Lord  Dunforth  as  re- 
garded pecuniary  matters. 

His  mother's  settlement  had  been  the  generous  sum  of 


LADY  DUNFORTH'S  VISIT. 


393 

twenty  thousand  pounds,  which,  of  course,  after  her  death  be- 
came his. 

His  father  also  had  accumulated  quite  a handsome  property, 
so  that,  if  he  never  received  a pound  from  Dunforth's  coffers,  he 
was  able  to  surround  his  bride  with  every  luxury,  while  nothing 
could  prevent  him  from  inheriting  the  title  and  landed  property 
upon  the  old  gentleman’s  decease,  since  they  were  entailed. 

Possibly  it  was  the  consciousness  of  these  facts  which  made 
his  lordship  so  furious,  since,  had  Adrian  been  entirely  depend- 
ent upon  him,  it  would  have  been  almost  impossible  for  him  to 
marry  without  his  consent. 

But  the  young  man  sincerely  loved  and  respected  his  grand- 
father ; their  wills  had  never  clashed  before,  and  it  was  a sore 
trial  to  him  that  they  were  alienated  now. 

The  day  after  his  marriage  Adrian  read  in  the  Times  that  his 
lordship  was  in  town  for  a few  days ; and  he  resolved  to  visit 
him  and  acquaint  him  with  the  step  which  he  had  taken  and  have 
the  worst  over  with  aj;  once. 

He  was  received  kindly,  yet  with  some  coldness. 

''Have  you  gotten  over  your  folly,  my  son.?”  the  old  man 
asked,  regarding  the  bright,  handsome  face  keenly. 

‘‘No,  my  lord;  instead,  I came  to  tell  you  that  I have  only 
gotten  deeper  into  it,”  was  the  grave  yet  quiet  reply. 

“What  do  you  mean,  sir.?”  and  Lord  Dunforth  got  quite  red 
in  the  face  at  this  answer. 

“I  mean,  my  lord,  that  I meant  just  what  I said  several  days 
ago.  I told  you  that  the  happiness  of  two  lives  was  at  stake, 
and  that  I should  marry  the  lady  I love.  Sir,  I found  that  she 
was  being  shamefully  abused  and  insulted  in  her  situation,  and 
I made  her  my  wife  yesterday.  ” 

“And  you  dare  come  hither  and  tell  me  of  it!”  thundeped 
the  angry  lord,  starting  to  his  feet. 

“I  could  not  endure  to  be  at  variance  with  you,  sir,  and  I 


394 


Lad  y d umfor  tip  s visit. 


know  you  would  honor  me  for  the  course  I hav€  taken  if  you 
would  but  consider  the  circumstances/' 

‘‘Never!"  be  interrupted,  white  with  passion;  “you  have 
braved  my  displeasure,  and  now — begone!  T!h2Lt  2.  Dun/orih 
should  have  stolen  forth  like  that  to  marry  a beggar !"  and  he 
groaned  aloud. 

“But,  grandfather,  listen " 

I will  not,  I tell  ycu,  and  I command  you  to  begone;  you 
are  of  age,  and  can  henceforth  manage  your  own  concerns  ; but 
not  one  shilling  of  my  property  shall  revert  to  you  more  than  I 
can  help,  and  I would  keep  the  title  and  estate  from  you  if  I 
could.  Go  to  your  beggar-bride  and  be  happy  if  you  can — . 
you  have  ruined  my  life.  Oh,  God!  I thought  I had  suffered 
enough  at  the  beginning,  without  this  last  blow  to  crush  me," 
and  he  turned  away  from  him  with  a gesture  of  despair. 

The  young  man's  heart  bled  for  him,  and  he  longed  to  com- 
fort him,  but  he  saw  that  his  presence  only  excited  him,  and 
he  withdrew,  sad  indeed,  but  without  a single  regret  for  the  step 
which  he  had  taken.  He  knew  he  had  done  right. 

He  was  puzzled  to  know  what  his  lordship  had  meant  by 
saying  he  thought  he  had  suffered  enough  in  the  beginning. 
He  had  never  heard  the  story  of  his  early  disappointment,  so 
he  could  not  know  to  what  he  referred. 

He  sought  his  grandmother  and  related  his  adventures  and 
their  termination  to  her. 

He  found  her  very  kind  and  willing  to  listen  to  him,  and  he 
told  her  all  about  Brownie  from  the  time  of  his  first  meeting 
with  her ; but  she,  too,  deemed  it  a mesalliance,  and  was  deeply 
distressed  on  account  of  it,  as  well  as  the  rupture  between  him 
and  his  lordship. 

But  Adrian  was  her  idol — the  deed  was  done  and  could  not 
now  be  undone — and  he  was  so  high  in  his  praises  of  his  bride 
that  she  was  half  won  over  to  his  side  before  he  left  her,  and 


LAB  Y D UN  FOR  TW  S VISIT. 


39S 

she  promised  to  visit  them,  if  she  could  do  so  without  incurring 
the  displeasure  of  her  husband. 

Three  days  later  the  happy  husband  and  wife  might  have  been 
seen  sitting  in  their  luxurious  drawing-room  in  the  Langham 
Hotel,  where  everything  which  love  could  suggest,  or  money 
procure,  had  been  lavished  upon  the  lovely  bride. 

Adrian  had  insisted  immediately  following  their  marriage 
upon  her  procuring  an  extensive  and  elaborate  wardrobe,  ‘‘be- 
fitting a lady  of  rank,’'  as  he  laughingly  said,  although  what 
that  rank  was  he  had  not  yet  seen  fit  to  tell  her,  and  she  was 
too  happy,  as  well  as  too  delicate,  to  question  him  upon  such 
minor  points. 

Accordingly,  with  him  to  assist  her,  she  had  purchased 
elegant  silks  and  velvets,  costly  laces  and  jewels,  besides  the 
many  other  beautiful  trifles  which  go  to  complete  an  elaborate 
toilet. 

Upon  this  particular  morning  Brownie  was  exquisitely  lovely 
in  a soft  trailing  robe  of  white  cashmere,  trimmed  with  rose- 
colored  silk,  and  confined  at  the*waist  by  a heavy  cord  and  tas- 
sels of  the  same  color.  Full  ruchings  of  costly  lace  surrounded 
her  neck  and  wrists,  and  from  beneath  the  folds  of  her  dress 
peeped  the  tiniest  kid  slipper,  ornamented  with  bows  of  rose- 
colored  satin.  Her  hair  was  arranged  simply,  but  very  becom- 
ingly, for  Milly  took  the  utmost  delight  in  her  new  vocation, 
and  spared  no  pains  to  make  her  fair  young  mistress  look  beau- 
tiful; and  no  one  could  say,  as  she  sits  listening  while  her  hus- 
band reads  to  her  from  the  morning  paper,  but  that  the  lovely 
bride  was  absolutely  perfect,  from  the  crown  of  her  pretty  head 
to  the  sole  of  her  dainty  slipper. 

Nurse  Clum  has  returned  to  West  Mailing,  since  she  is  no 
more  needed  for  propriety’s  sake ; but  she  did  not  go  empty- 
handed  by  any  means,  for  Adrian  crowded  her  poor  little  purse 
to  its  fullest  capacity,  while  Brownie  bought  the  very  nicest 


LADY  DUNFORTff^S  VISIT, 


39^' 

black  silk  for  a dress  which  she  could  find  as  a testimonial  et 
her  appreciation  of  the  kindness  which  she  had  done  her. 

With  all  her  pride  in  the  old  lordship’s  heir,  she  had  been 
forced  to  acknowledge  that  he  had  made  a fitting  choice,  and, 
as  she  confidentially  told  him,  as  he  said  '^farewell,”  while  there 
was  the  least  bit  of  a twinkle  in  her  eyes,  that  she  was  hound 
is  own  thai  he  wasnt  a bit  too  good for  her^  after  all.  ” 

The  little  golden  clock  upon  its  bracket  of  carved  marble 
chimed  the  hour  of  eleven,  and  scarcely  had  it  ceased  when 
there  came  a knock  upon  the  door. 

Another  instant  it  was  swung  open,  and  the  waiter  an- 
nounced : 

Lady  Dunforth."' 

Brownie  starts  and  colors  violently  at  the  name,  and  glances 
in  surprise  at  her  husband,  wondering  how  it  happens  that 
of  all  others,  should  be  the  first  to  call  upon  her. 

Much  pleased,  Adrian  rises  and  advances  to  greet  her  lady- 
ship, and  leading  her  to  Brownie,  he  says,  to  her  increasing  sur- 
prise : 

Grandmother,  this  is  my  darling.  Will  you  love  her  for 
my  sake  first,  until  you  come  to  know  her,  when,  I am  sure, 
you  will  love  her  for  her  own 

The  old  lady  had  hardly  seen  Brownie  when  she  was  at  the 
castle,  she  had  been  so  much  engaged  with  her  company,  and 
she  would  never  have  recognized  her  as  the  same  being  as  she 
stood  before  her  now  in  all  her  bright  loveliness. 

She  was  charmed  with  her ! 

Her  quick  eye  took  in  at  a single  glance  every  item  of  her 
tasteful  toilet,  the  delicate,  clear-cut  face,  the  tiny,  aristocratic 
hands,  and  even  the  narrow  little  foot,  with  its  arching  instep ; 
and  she  knew  at  once  that  she  was  in  the  presence  of  a true  and 
well-born  lady. 

Her  heart,  which  had  been  filled  with  dread  and  distress  ever 


LAD  Y D UN  FOR  TW  S VISIT, 


391 

sinct  she  had  first  known  of  her  boy marriage,  instantly  set 
tied  down  into  a state  of  restful  satisfaction  and  delight. 

Love  this  dainty,  bewitching  creature  ? Of  course  she  could, 
and  be  proud  of  her,  too  1 There  could  be  no  doubt,  with  her 
graceful  self-possession,  but  that  she  was  a lady  bom. 

f^he  greeted  the  young  bride  with  the  utmost  graciousness, 
and  said  sweetly,  as  she  kissed  her  : 

‘^My  dear,  I do  not  think  I shall  even  need  Adrian's  recom- 
mendation to  make  me  love  you. " 

Brownie  concealed  her  amazement  at  this  new  development 
as  best  she  could. 

She  had  never  dreamed  that  Adrian  was  the  grandson  of  Lord 
Dunforth  until  that  moment,  and  the  knowledge  brought  with 
it  various  conflicting  emotions. 

She  gave  him  one  quick,  surprised  look,  and  then  devoted 
herself  to  the  entertainment  of  her  distinguished  guest. 

Her  ladyship  was  beguiled  into  a visit  of  an  hour,  and  when 
the  little  clock  struck  twelve  she  started  up  with  surprise. 

They  tried  to  persuade  her  to  remain  and  lunch  with  them, 
but  she  courteously  declined. 

As  she  kissed  Brownie  again  at  parting,  she  put  into  her 
hands  a large  velvet  case. 

do  not  know  what  you  may  have  already,  dear,"  she  said, 
‘^but  I like  a bride  to  wear  pearls.  Please  accept  these,  with 
my  love. " 

Brownie  touched  the  spring  and  her  lovely  face  flushed  with 
pleasure  as  the  cover  flew  back. 

Upon  their  blue  velvet  cushion  there  lay  a most  exquisite  and 
complete  set  of  pearls  in  the  loveliest  design — necklace,  brace- 
lets, ear-rings,  with  a beautiful  spray  for  the  hair. 

Adrian  was  very  much  gratified  at  this  token  of  remembrance, 
and  added  his  thanks  to  his  wife's. 

‘T  do  not  know  how  soon  we  shall  return  to  Dunforth  Cas- 
tle, but  I wish  you  might  come  to  West  Mailing  before  very 


LADY  DUNFORTH'S  VI&IT. 


J«8 

long, ''  Lady  Dunforth  said,  wistfully,  when  she  went  away,  but 
she  did  not  invite  them  to  call  upon  her  while  she  remained  in 
town.  She  knew  it  would  not  do. 

Delicately  as  she  had  worded  the  sentence.  Brownie  felt  it 
with  a sudden  pain,  and  knew  that  no  invitation  was  conveyed 
in  the  words,  and  her  brow  grew  troubled  and  her  face  very^ 
grave  when  they  were  alone  again. 

Adrian  at  once  divined  the  cause,  and  knew  that  he  must 
explain  his  position ; he  could  not  keep  it  from  her  longer. 

‘‘My  Brownie  is  looking  troubled;  were  you  not  pleased 
with  Lady  Dunforth.?’'  he  asked,  drawing  her  into  his  arms. 

^^Oh,  yes,  I think  she  is  very  lovely;  but,  Adrian,  I never 
dreamed  that  you  were  anything  to  Lord  Dunforth.  ” 

‘'You  never  asked  me,  did  you.?”  he  asked,  with  mock 
gravity. 

“Of  course  not — I did  not  like  to  be  questioning  you  as  to 
your  ancestry ; I supposed  you  would  tell  me  all  in  good  time 
of  your  own  accord.  I have  heard  that  you  were  connected 
with  a titled  family,  but  never  supposed  you  were  a descendant 
of  his,  and  would  occupy  such  a high  position,  ” she  said,  look- 
ing rather  uneasy. 

“Then  it  can  never  be  said  that  you  schemed  for  me  on  that 
account,”  he  replied,  with  twinkling  eyes  and  an  amused  smile, 
“while  I,  on  the  other  hand,  have  had  the  advantage  of  you 
all  along.  I have  known  ever  since  the  day  I first  saw  you  that 
you  were  a descendant  of  royalty.  ” 

Brownie  lifted  her  head  and  gave  him  a perplexed  look. 

“What  do  you  mean.?”  she  asked. 

“I  mean,”  and  he  laughed  mischievously,  “that  I have 
heard  Miss  Douglas  was  very  proud  of  having  descended  from 
Queen  Margaret  Tudor.  Have  you  the  genealogical  tree, 
Brownie.?” 

“Poor  auntie  ! But  you  are  laughing  at  me,  and  who  told 
you  all  this?” 


LADY  DUNFORTWS  VISIT. 


390 

‘‘My  friend  Gordon,  of  course;  so  you  see  I took  care  to 
find  out  all  about  you  before  I made  any  advances/' 

She  smiled  at  his  pleasantry,  but  she  was  not  to  be  diverted 
from  the  subject  which  occupied  her  thoughts. 

“But — but,  Adrian,  why  did  Lady  Dunforth  speak  in  just 
the  way  she  did.?  And  why  did  not  his  lordship  call  with  her.? 
It  would  have  been  the  right  thing  to  do,"  and  she  searched  his 
face  with  her  clear  eyes. 

He  told  her  as  gently  as  he  could  then  that  when  he  went  to 
seek  his  grandfather’s  consent,  that  knowing  something  regard- 
ing the  circumstances  of  her  leaving  Mrs.  Coolidge,  he  had 
imbibed  a sudden  and  unjust  prejudice,  and  had  withheld  his 
consent  to  their  marriage. 

Brownie  listened  with  downcast  eyes  and  flushed  cheeks,  but 
aer  slender  form  was  drawn  proudly  erect,  and  her  little  head 
^ras  lifted  with  st.ag-like  defiance. 

“Did  you  know  of  this  before  you  announced  our  engage- 
ment at  Lady  Randal's .?"  she  demanded,  when  he  had  finished. 

“Yes,  darling,  and  if  the  whole  world  had  opposed  it  would 
have  made  no  difference.  I am  not  a slave,  nor  a vacillating 
boy,  that  any  one  should  choose  my  bride  for  me ; and  you 
are  the  only  woman  I have  ever  seen  whom  I would  willingly 
make  my  wife.  If  my  grandfather  would  only  have  listened  to- 
me while  I explained  your  position,  he  would  never  have  been 
so  unreasonable. " 

“But  I — " Brownie  began,  haughtily,  but  he  stopped  hex 
with  a kiss. 

“Yes,  I know,  my  own,  that  ‘the  pride  of  that  royal  race  is 
so  strong  within  you  that  you  never  would  have  wedded  me  had 
you  known  of  this  opposition ; therefore  I took  care  that  you 
should  know  nothing  of  it  until  it  was  too  late."  Then  he 
added,  more  seriously,  as  he  saw  that  her  face  was  still  over- 
cast : “But,  my  darling,  what  is  birth  or  caste  compared  with 
our  future  happiness,  even  if  you  were  not  my  equal,  socially 


400 


LADY  DUNFORTIPS  VISIT. 


epeaking,  which  I contend  you  are?  We  love  each  other,  and 
have  no  right  to  make  ourselves  miserable  over  what  the  world 
might  think  or  say.  You  and  I are  satisfied  with  each  other, 
are  we  not?'"  he  asked,  fondly. 

The  look  which  she  gave  him  told  him  that  she,  at  least,  was 
content  with  him ; but  still  knowing  all  that  she  did  regarding 
Lord  Dunforth,  the  knowledge  that  he  was  opposed  to  her  mar- 
rying Adrian  still  rankled  in  her  heart ; though  she  forgot  to 
consider  that  he  could  not  know  who  she  was,  or  that  she  had 
any  connection  with  his  former  love. 

‘'But,  Adrian,"  she  said,  some  time  after,  and  when  he  had 
supposed  the  matter  dropped  entirely,  “Lord  Dunforth  need 
not  have  been  so  very  particular,  for  he  himself  was  once  be- 
trothed to  auntie,  and  would  have  married  her  if " 

It  was  now  the  young  husband's  turn  to  look  surprised  and 
puzzled,  and  be  interrupted  her  in  astonished  tones : 

“Dearest,  what  is  this  that  you  are  saying?" 

“It  is  true,"  she  answered,  smiling  at  his  incredulity,  ‘That 
he  wanted  to  marry  her,  and  would,  but  for  some  treachery  on 
the  part  of  Miss  Helen  Capel,  who  is  now  Lady  Randal,  I 
believe ; and  poor  auntie  loved  him  till  the  last  minute  of  her 
life." 

“Who  told  you  of  this?" 

“Auntie  herself,  the  very  day  she  died,  and  the  jewels  which 
Isabel  Coolidge  has  were  most  of  them  given  to  her  in  honor 
of  her  approaching  marriage  with  his  lordship." 

More  and  more  amazed,  Adrian  was  now  eager  to  hear  the 
whole  story,  and  Brownie,  nothing  loth,  went  over  the  whole 
ground,  and  then  proved  her  position  by  reminding  him  of 
Lord  Dunforth's  recognition  of  the  jewels  she  wore  the  night 
she  attended  the  opera. 

When  she  had  concluded  he  said,  with  a little  touch  of  tri- 
umph in  his  tone : 

“I  think,  Mrs.  Dredmond,  that  we  are  about  to  turn  the 


BROWNIE'S  LITTLE  CHARGE. 


401 


tables  upon  my  proud-spirited  grandsire  finely,  and  we  will 
prove  to  him  that  there  is  such  a thing  as  being  ‘more  nice 
than  wise/” 

With  which  trite  quotation  he  immediately  sat  down  and 
wrote  out  a complete  history  of  Miss  Mehetabel  Douglas  and 
Brownie,  and  dispatched  it  at  once  to  Lord  Dunforth,  feeling 
assured  that  this  explanation  would  make  everything  all  right, 
and  bring  his  lordship  to  them  in  rather  a more  humble  frame 
of  mind  than  when  he  last  saw  him. 

His  chagrin  can  be  imagined  when  the  epistle  was  returned 
to  him  unopened,  and  without  a word,  thus  showing  that  hence- 
forth he  wished  no  communication  with  him ; and  while  his 
indignation  for  the  moment  got  the  better  of  him,  he  was  still 
deeply  grieved  to  be  thus  alienated  from  his  grandfather  in  his 
old  age. 

But  Brownie,  all  her  pride  aroused  to  arms,  vowed  within 
ierself  that  the  haughty  earl  should  yet  sue  for  her  favor. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 
jwiownie’s  little  charge. 

Brownie  was  exceedingly  anxious  that  Lady  Ruxley  should  be 
informed  of  her  happiness  and  safety,  and  would  have  hastened 
at  once  to  Vallingham  Hall  to  relieve  her  anxiety ; but  Adrian 
insisted  that  they  would  be  constantly  receiving  callers,  and  after 
sending  their  cards  abroad  as  he  had  done,  it  would  not  do  to 
run  away ; besides,  he  was  desirous  that  she  should  see  more 
of  the  great  metropolis,  and  mingle  in  its  gayetks  for  a while. 
But  he  suggested  she  should  write. 


40^ 


BRO  WNIE  ’ 5 LITTLE  CHARGE. 


So  Brownie  wrote  her  ladyship  affectionate  letter,  telling 
her  of  her  marriage,  and  that  she  would  come  to  see  her  just  as 
soon  as  possible,  and  explain  everything.  Meanwhile,  she  re- 
quested that  she  would  keep  her  secret  from  the  Randals  and 
Cooiidges  until  she  saw  her. 

This  duty  accomplished,  she  gave  herself  up  heartily  to  all 
the  pleasures  which  Adrian  planned  for  her. 

Her  spirits,  which  had  been  somewhat  subdued  by  that  dread- 
ful experience  at  Vallingham  Hall,  rose  with  every  passing  day  ; 
she  bloomed  into  such  surpassing  beauty  that  no  one  who  locked 
into  her  glowing  face  could  doubt  that  the  world  was  at  its 
brightest  with  her. 

How  strange  it  is  that  in  the  midst  of  our  happiest  moments 
dark  clouds  should  hang  over  us,  as  if,  jealous  of  our  joy,  they 
are  eager  to  enwrap  us  in  their  gloom. 

So  it  was  with  the  fair  young  bride. 

One  day,  upon  returning  from  a stroll  in  Regent's  Park,  they 
had  almost  reached  Portland  Place  when  their  attention  was 
suddenly  attracted  by  a shrill  scream,  and  then  by  the  distress- 
ing cries  of  a child. 

Turning  quickly  in  the  direction  whence  the  sound  proceed- 
ed, Adrian  saw  that  a woman,  who  but  a moment  before  had 
been  standing  on  the  river’s  brink,  had  disappeared  from  sight, 
while  the  child  of  whom  she  had  had  charge  was  reaching  out 
its  hands  toward  the  river,  and  screaming  at  the  top  of  its  lungs. 

The  young  husband  and  wife  hastened  to  the  spot,  and  saw 
that  the  woman  had  fallen  from  the  bank,  and  was  lying  mo- 
tionless at  the  bottom  of  the  stream. 

Whether  she  had  fainted,  or  what  had  caused  the  fall,  they 
could  not  imagine,  and  Adrian  hastened  to  rescue  her,  while 
Brownie,  taking  the  little  one  from  its  elegant  carriage,  tenderly 
strove  to  comfort  it. 

A crowd  began  to  gather  around,  and  Adrian  was  assisted  in 


BROWNIE^ S LITTLE  CHARGE. 


40J 

bringing  his  burden  to  a safe,  dry  place  ; but  to  all  his  inquiries 
as  to  who  she  was  no  one  could  give  any  information. 

She  was  evidently  a nurse  in  some  high  family,  as  her  cap  and 
iipron  denoted,  while  the  child,  a little  boy  of  about  three  years, 
was  clothed  with  taste  and  elegance.  He  kept  crying  for 
‘'Nannie,  Nannie,'"  at  first,  and  his  little  face  wore  a grieved, 
distressed  look,  as  he  saw  her  lying  so  still  upon  the  ground, 
but  Brownie  removed  him  to  a little  distance,  and  soon  succeed- 
ed in  quieting  him  with  her  fond,  sweet  words. 

The  woman  continued  insensible,  and  as  they  could  gain  no 
clew  to  her  identity,  Adrian,  fearing  she  had  been  seriously 
injured  in  falling,  began  to  wonder  what  would  be  best  to  do 
with  her. 

A policeman  now  appeared,  and  advised  that  she  be  taken  to 
some  hospital,  and  deeming  this  the  wisest  course  to  pursue, 
the  young  man  gave  directions  that  she  be  taken  to  St.  George's, 
it  being  the  finest  one  in  the  city. 

"But  v/hat  will  become  of  the  child he  asked,  in  perplex- 
ity, as  he  saw  it  in  Brownie's  arms. 

"Take  him  to  the  station-house  until  called  for,"  some  one 
said,  heartlessly. 

"Oh,  no!"  exclaimed  Brownie,  with  an  appealing,  terrified 
look  at  her  husband ; while  the  child,  frightened  at  being  so 
curiously  regarded,  threw  his  little  arms  around  her  neck  and 
hid  his  face  upon  her  shoulder. 

She  clasped  him  to  her  with  a sudden  thrill. 

" Let  us  keep  him  until  his  parents  come  to  claim  him,"  she 
said,  in  a low  tone,  to  her  husband. 

"But,  dearest,  it  will  never  do  for  you  to  have  the  care  of 
him,"  he  returned,  disapprovingly. 

"Ah  1 Adrian,  he  is  such  a darling,  I should  like  it.  Milly 
will  assist  in  the  care  of  him,  and,  in  all  probability,  his  paien»;« 
will  claim  him  by  to-morrow. " 

"That  is  true,"  he  said,  hesitatingly. 


404 


SROWNIE'S  LITTLE  CHARGE. 


"I  know  he  will  be  content  with  me,  and  that  I shall  treat 
him  tenderly.  Dear,  I cannot  let  them  take  him  to  the  station-  r 

-!ii 

house, ''  she  pleaded,  earnestly.  ; 

Adrian  himself  said  that  was  not  to  be  thought  of  for  a mcs  "5 
ment,  and  being  strongly  attracted  toward  the  beautiful  boy,  it  I 
was  finally  arranged  that  it  should  be  as  Brownie  desired,  and 
they  all  returned  to  the  Langham,  waile  the  unfortunate  nUrse 
was  borne  away  to  the  hospital.  3 

The  little  fellow  was  soon  as  as  a king,  and,  although  ; 

he  talked  of  Nannie,  seemecft  perfectly  contented  when  in  I 
Brownie's  presence.  \ 

She  found,  upon  questioning  him,  that  he  was  called  Eddie,  x 
but  she  tried  in  vain  to  make  hi  n repeat  his  last  name.  Evi* 
dently  he  had  not  been  taught  it,  J 

The  next  morning  Adrian  wei^  t early  to  the  hospital,  hoping  < 
the  nurse  would  be  able  to  converse  with  him  and  give  him 
information  regarding  her  little  charge ; but  he  found  her  ■ 
raving  in  delirium,  and  the  doctors  said  she  had  doubtless  been 
seriously  injured  about  the  head  in  falling,  and  they  were  fearful 
that  the  accident  would  cost  her  her  life. 

Only  one  thing  remained  to  be  done  now,  and  that  was  to 
advertise  the  child  in  the  papers,  which  Adrian  immediately  did, 
and  then  strove  quietly  to  await  the  issue. 

Since  the  little  one  would  occupy  her  for  a few  daws,  Brownie 
persuaded  Adrian  to  run  down  to  Vallingham  Hall  to  relieve 
Lady  Ruxley's  suspense,  and  consult  with  her  as  to  the  best 
method  of  securing  her  jewels,  and  of  releasing  Herbert 
Randal. 

It  was  Saturday  that  the  accident  happened,  and  on  Monday 
he  departed  for  West  Mailing,  where  he  found  Lady  Ruxley  in 
her  usual  health,  but  feeling  very  lonely  without  her  companion. 
She  still  remained  at  the  Hall,  where  she  said  she  should  stay 
until  the  folks  returned  from  Paris,  and  then  they  might  have  , 
their  grand  doings  to  themselves  and  welcome, 


BROWNIE^ S LITTLE  CHARGE. 


405 


She  had  received  Brownie’s  note  the  day  before  their  depart- 
ure for  Paris,  but  she  had  carefully  guarded  her  secret,  thoroughly 
believing  in  her,  and  inwardly  triumphing  in  her  good  fortune. 

‘‘I  knew  they  were  humbugs  from  the  beginning,”  she  said, 
wrathfully,  when  Adrian  told  her  about  the  jewels  ; '‘but,  ”and 
she  shook  her  h®ad  sadly,  “its  too  bad  for  Charles  to  be  taken 
in  so.  ” 

“I  sympathize  with  your  ladyship,”  Adrian  returned,  “But 
let  us  hope  that  he  may  have  his  eyes  opened  before  it  is  too 
late.” 

He  then  related  Brownie’s  history  from  beginning  to  end,  and 
though  the  old  lady  felt  some  uncomfortable  twinges  of  con- 
science upon  hearing  that  she  was  the  grand-niece  of  that  same 
Mehetabel  Douglas  who  came  to  such  grief  in  her  own  house, 
yet  she  rejoiced  over  the  young  girl’s  triumph  and  good  fortune. 
She  snilfed  contemptuously  when  Adrian  spoke  of  his  grand- 
father’s opposition  to  his  marriage. 

“She  has  just  as  good  blood  in  her  veins  as  Royal  Dunforth 
himself,  and  when  he  gets  his  eyes  open  he’ll  be  ashamed  of 
being  so  crotchety.  Humph  !”  she  went  on,  with  her  irrepress- 
ible chuckle ; “I  told  Helen  she’d  get  her  pay  yet ; and  I knew 
that  girl  was  treacherous.  What  a mongrel  she  is  to  appropriate 
the  poor  abused  thing’s  jewels  and  wear  them  ! — and  they  were 
Meta  Douglas’  too  ! I thought  I had  seen  them  before,  but  1 
didn’t  say  a word,  for  Helen  says  I am  always  poking  into  other 
folks’  affairs.  And  they  hid  the  poor  child  in  that  wretched 
cell,  did  they 

Her  eyes  glistened  viciously  as  she  said  this. 

“Yes ; although  I do  not  see  how  they  dared  do  it,”  Adrian 
replied. 

“Sir  Charles  shall  know  of  this,  or  my  tongue  will  be  palsied 
before  I can  tell  him  !”  she  muttered,  angrily,  and  then  dc' 
manded  : “Who  did  you  say  let  her  out ?” 

Adrian  really  dreaded  relating  this  portion  of  his  story,  lest 


4o6 


BROWNIE^ S LITTLE  CHARGE, 


the  shock  should  be  too  much  for  the  old  lady.  He  had  merely 
mentioned  the  fact  of  Brownie's  being  released  by  some  one 
upon  the  other  side  of  the  cell,  but  now  he  broke  to  her  as 
gently  as  he  could  the  tale  of  Lady  Randal's  fearful  sin  in  con- 
cealing her  deformed  son. 

The  horrified  woman  seemed  to  shrivel  into  smaller  propor- 
tions than  ever  as  she  listened  ; her  lips  grew  livid,  her  eyes 
seemed  to  sink  into  her  head,  and  she  shook  like  a reed. 

' ' Has  she  dared  do  this  cruel  thing she  whispered  hoarsely ; 
then  added ; 

‘ ‘ I had  given  her  credit  during  these  later  years  for  regretting 
and  repenting  of  her  former  wickedness  and  intrigues,  but  it 
seems  she  is  capable  of  almost  anything.  He — Herbert,  did 
you  say  his  name  is 

Yes  ; that  was  what  he  told  my  wife." 

‘‘Well,  he  must  not  remain  there  another  hour — it  is  too 
horrible  !" 

She  insisted  upon  going  immediately  to  the  young  man,  ask- 
ing Adrian  to  accompany  her. 

He  was  only  too  glad  to  do  so,  that  he  might  tender  his 
thanks  to  the  poor  cripple  for  his  kindness  to  his  darling. 

Lady  Ruxley  appeared  to  know  the  way  perfectly ; for,  pass- 
ing through  Isabel's  room,  she  unbolted  the  door  of  the  cell, 
and  groped  her  way  to  the  opposite  side. 

As  she  stepped  upon  that  semi-circular  block  of  stone,  she 
explained  the  secret  to  Adrian,  and  bidding  him  follow  her,  she 
pressed  her  foot  upon  the  bolt  and  disappeared.  As  soon  as  the 
shaft  arose  to  its  place,  he  followed  immediately,  and  soon  found 
himself  standing  by  her  side,  in  the  room  already  described. 

The  young  cripple  was  sleeping  upon  a couch,  and  had  not 
heard  them  enter ; but  as  Lady  Ruxley  stumped  toward  him 
with  her  cane,  he  started  up,  and  regarded  his  strange  visitors 
with  amazement. 

Lady  Ruxley  nearly  shrieked  aloud  as  she  beheld  his  terrible 


BROWNIE'S  LITTLE  CHARGE, 


407 

deformity, .but  quickly  recovering  herself,  she  moved  still  nearer 
to  him,  and  exclaimed,  fh  her  blunt  way  : 

Well,  Herbert  Randal,  thank  the  Lord  that  you  are  at  last 
born  into  the  world  \” 

' ‘‘Madam,  are  you — who  are  you  ? ' he  stammered,  regarding 
iier  with  nearly  as  much  curiosity  as  she  did  him. 

“I  am  a withered  antedeluvian,  as  you  perceive,  but  the 
heart  within  me  is  sound  yet,  and  is  capable  of  feeling  for  others' 
woes,  if  not  for  others'  faults,  I am  Lady  Ruxley,  your 
mothers  aunt." 

“I  have  heard  of  you,  and  Miss  Douglas  said  you  were  very 
kind,"  he  said,  gently,  and  regarding  her  bent  form  with  a 
pitying  eye. 

“Did  she?"  said  her  ladyship,  eagerly,  while  her  thin  lips 
broke  into  a pleased  smile.  “Miss  Douglas  was  a jewel." 

“Miss  Douglas  wasf  repeated  the  cripple,  catching  his 
breath,  and  a look  of  pain  crossing  his  face. 

“Yes,  was;  for  she  is  no  longer  Miss  Douglas,  but  Mrs. 
Dredmond,  and  this  is  her  husband,"  returned  Lady  Ruxley, 
introducing  Adrian. 

The  two  young  men  clasped  hands,  but  Herbert  Randal 
searched  Adrian’s  face  wistfully  and  eagerly. 

The  result  seemed  to  be  satisfactory,  for  the  pained  look 
passed,  and  he  seemed  to  be  assured  that  the  young  husband 
was  in  every  way  worthy  of  her  whom  he  had  wedded,  and  who 
had  seemed  like  some  bright  angel  to  him. 

And  now  there  followed  many  questions  and  explstoations, 
and  a long  conference,  which  resulted  in  Lady  Ruxley  deciding 
that  young  Randal  should  return  at  once  with  her  to  the  villa, 
wnere  he  should  remain  until  the  return  of  the  family  from  Paris, 
“when  there  will  be  a serious  reckoning f she  concluded,  with  a 
stem,  bitter  look. 

Herbert  demurred  at  first,  but  upon  being  assured  by  Adrian 


4o8 


BnOJVmE^S  LITTLE  CHARGE, 


that  it  would  be  best,  he  at  last  consented,  upon  conditioir  that  ^ 
he  could  induce  his  tutor  to  be  party  to  the  plan.  ^ 

The  tutor  was  summoned,  and  although  very  much  disturbed  | 
at  this  unexpected  state  of  things,  he  was  really  glad  at  heart  ^ 
that  for  the  future  his  pupil  would  know  the  comforts  of  life. 
Lady  Ruxley  assured  him  that  his  salary  should  be  continued  4* 
to  him  during  his  own  and  his  sister  s life,  for  the  sake  of  the  ^.,1 
kindness  which  he  had  shown  his  charge  during  the  past.  | 

So,  as  the  matter  was  to  be  kept  as  quiet  as  possible  from  the  | 
servants,  it  was  decided  they  should  wait  until  evening  b«/ora  | 
they  made  the  change,  when  it  was  accomplished  without  ex-»  ^ 
citing  suspicion.  | 

Adrian  remained  until  the  next  morning,  when,  bidding  them  k 
a kind  farewell,  and  feeling  much  pleased  with  the  result  of  his  \ 
journey,  he  returned  to  I^ndon,  taking  with  him  Brownie's  % 
trunks,  a cordial  invitation  from  Lady  Ruxley  to  the  bride  to  v 
come  and  visit  her,  and  also  an  elegant  piece  of  Irish  point  lace,  J 
that  would  have  made  the  eyes  of  half  the  London  belles  water  ^ 
with  envy,  as  a bridal  present.  • j 

Lady  Ruxley  seemed  to  forget  her  own  aches  and  pains  in  ^ 
ministering  to  the  comfort  of  her  unfortunate  grand-nephew; 
and  she  found  him  a most  entertaining  companion,  for  he  had 
improved  his  time  well,  and  was  well  read  upon  almost  every 
subject.  His  knowledge  of  the  world,  and  of  men  and  things,  j 
was  wonderful,  considering  that  he  had  never  mingled  with  ^ 
people,  or  been  outside  the  four  wails  of  Vallingham  Hall 
during  his  life.  J 

She  was  eager  for  the  return  of  Lady  Randal  from  Paris,  and  ; 
yet  she  was  somewhat  anxious  as  to  what  the  result  of  this  new  ^ 
development  would  be ; while  she  could  not  help  feeling  a little  | 
bit  of  triumph  as  she  thought  how  astonished  and  somewhat  a 
chagrined  her  amiable  niece  would  be  when  she  should  discover  | 
that  Mehetabel  Douglas  would  be  the  Lady  of  Dunliacift  | 
after  all 


BRO  WNIE  'S  LITTLE  CHARGE. 


409 


‘'And  Charles,  how  will  he  receive  his  brother,  I wonder?^ 
ehe  often  thought,  with  some  anxiety.  ‘‘If  he  is  noble  and 
manly,  as  I hope  he  will  be,  my  fortune  shall  be  divided  be- 
tween them ; but  if  he  should  be  unkind  or  ungenerous,  then 
Herbert  shall  have  every  farthing 

Upon  Adrian  s return  to  London,  his  young  wife  met  him 
with  the  saddest  face  in  the  world,  and  threw  herself  into  his 
arms  with  a heart-broken  cry. 

The  beautiful  child,  whom  she  had  so  tenderly  taken  to  her 
heart  in  its  desolation,  and  whom  she  had  begun  to  love  very 
dearly,  was  alarmingly  ill — dying,  she  feared,  from  what  the 
physician  said — with  that  dread  disease,  membraneous  croup ! 

He  had  been  taken  very  suddenly,  almost  immediately  upon 
Adrian’s  departure,  and,  despite  their  tenderest  care,  had  rapidly 
grown  worse,  until  now  he  was  wholly  unconscious,  and  seemed 
sinking  fast. 

She  had  heard  from  his  nurse  that  morning,  but  she  was  no 
better,  and  so  no  light  could  be  obtained  as  to  whom  this  beau- 
tiful little  waif  belonged. 

Adrian  was  extremely  shocked  by  this  distressing  intelligence, 
und  together  they  returned  to  Eddie’s  bedside. 

The  doctor  was  there  holding  the  little  pulse  and  watching 
the  ebbing  life.  He  shook  his  head  very  gravely  .at  Adrian’s 
look  of  inquiry,  and  one  glance  into  the  little  pale,  distre^ed 
fece,  told  more  plainly  still  that  there  was  no  hope. 

The  child  was  breathing  with  great  difficulty,  and  rolling  his 
head  from  side  to  side.  His  beautiful  eyes  were  partly  closed, 
s,nd  the  little  lips  were  blue  and  drawn ; and  the  tears  sprang 
unbidden  to  the  young  man’s  eyes  as  he  thought  of  the  bright, 
laughing  boy  he  had  left  only  the  day  before,  with  not  a thought 
of  finding  him  thus  on  his  return. 

An  hour  passed  with  scarce  any  change,  and  still  those  kind 
watchers  hovered  around  his  bed. 


410 


BJ^OJVmE^S  LITTLE  CHARGE. 


But  suddenly  there  came  to  them  from  the  drawing-rooi« 
sounds  of  confusion  and  eager  questioning. 

Adrian  passes  out  to  inquire  the  cause,  and  Brownie  hears  a 
few  hurried  sentences,  then  a sharp  cry  of  pain,  which  is  fol- 
lowed by  the  sudden  rush  of  garments,  and  a beautiful  woman 
of  about  thirty  rushes  frantically  to  the  bedside,  and  bends, 
sobbing  and  moaning,  over  the  dying  child. 

She  is  immediately  followed  by  a gentleman  a few  years  older, 
who,  with  a groan  of  agony,  seizes  the  little  cold  hands  and 
passionately  presses  kiss  after  kiss  upon  them. 

Brownie  comprehends  at  once  that  at  last  the  parents  have 
found  their  missing  child. 

‘'It  is  Sir  Edgar  Douglas  and  his  wife,  who  have  just  returned 
from  a journey  into  Wales,''  Adrian  whispers,  drawing  his  wife 
a little  aside,  and  then  continued:  “They  arrived  only  this 
morning,  and  were  rendered  nearly  frantic  at  finding  the  nurse 
and  their  boy  missing ; but  almost  immediately  they  saw  my 
advertisement,  and  hastened  hither  at  once." 

“How  dreadful!"  murmured  Brownie,  weeping  with  the 
stricken  ones. 

Then  she  hastened  to  minister  to  the  little  one,  who  seemed 
now  to  be  struggling  with  the  mighty  foe ; while  his  mother  was 
too  much  overcome  by  her  violent  grief  to  be  capable  of  any 
effort,  and  the  father  seemed  like  one  turned  to  stone. 

At  length  all  is  over.  The  head  and  eyes  are  still ; the  little 
chubby  hands  have  relaxed  their  convulsive  grasp,  and  the  tor- 
tured breathing  has  ceased. 

Brownie  closes  the  beautiful  eyes,  smooths  the  bright  curling 
locks  back  from  the  marble  brow,  and  clasps  the  tiny  hands 
upon  the  still  breast,  then  turns  to  comfort  the  bereft  mother. 

It  is  a hopeless  task,  however,  for  she  is  borne  fainting  to 
another  apartment,  whither  her  husband  soon  follows  her, 
having  first,  in  reply  to  Ad|jan's  oifer  of  assistance,  requested 
that  he  would  arrange  for  ^ last  sad  rites. 


BRO WNIE  LITTLE  CHARGE. 


411 


For  the  next  two  days  it  seemed  to  Brownie  as  if  this  heavy 
cloud  must  forever  obscure  the  brightness  of  her  sky.  It  was  so 
hard  to  have  this  bright  little  floweret  die,  and  she  mourned  for 
him  almost  as  bitterly  as  if  he  had  been  her  own. 

With  her  own  hands  she  arrayed  the  perfect  little  form  in  the 
daintiest  garments  she  could  find  ; and  when  all  was  ready, 
Adrian  laid  him  tenderly  in  the  spotless  shrine,  which  was  to 
hold  the  sacred  clay  until  it  should  rise  again  in  immortal 
glory. 

His  form  was  like  the  lilies. 

And  his  couch  as  pure  as  they 
But  one  of  God’s  messengers 
Had  borne  the  soul  away ! 

He  was  like  some  pure,  bright  cherub,  sleeping  upon  a couch 
of  pearl ! 

Then  they  called  the  stricken  parents  to  behold  the  beautiful 
dust,  and  the  last  sad  ceremonies  were  performed. 

The  mother  wept,  and  would  not  be  comforted  ; but  the 
father  was  like  a block  of  marble,  until  he  looked  his  last  upon 
his  darling's  face  and  they  bore  him  from  his  sight.  Then,  with 
one  deep,  heart-rending  groan,  he  sank  lifeless  upon  the  floor, 
stricken  down  by  a fatal  attack  of  apoplexy. 

It  was  his  heir,  his  only  treasure,  and  death  had  ruthlessly 
snatched  him  from  his  grasp ; he  had  not  thought  that  his  peer- 
less boy  could  die,  so  young,  so  bright,  so  beautiful,  and  his 
own  heart-strings  were  snapped  asunder. 

Three  days  later,  the  feet  of  them  that  had  borne  his  son 
away,  took  him  also,  and  laid  him  by  his  side,  while  the  widow 
returned  to  her  home  desolate. 

The  nurse  was  veiy  ill  for  several  weeks,  but  at  length,  con- 
trary to  all  expectation,  she  began  to  recover,  and  ia  time 
returned  to  her  sorrowing  mistress. 


412 


ANOTHER  REVELATION. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIIL 

ANOTHER  REVELATION, 


Does  the  reader  consider  the  sad  incidents  contained  in  the 
last  chapter  a wearisome  digression  ? 

They  are  of  the  utmost  importance  to  our  story,  as  the  fol- 
lowing, which  appeared  a few  days  subsequent  in  the  London 
Daily  Times,  will  show  : 

“The  nearest  of  kin  to  Sir  Edgar  Douglas,  who  was  son  of 
Sir  William  Douglas,  son  of  Sir  Frederick  Douglas,  formerly  ^ 
of  Winship  Towers,  Winchester,  will  learn  something  to  his  or 
her  advantage  by  applying  to  Capel  & Armand,  attorneys-at- 
law,  No  47  Grays  Inn.” 

“What  was  your  fathers  name.  Brownie?”  Adrian  asked, 
lifting  his  eyes  from  the  paper  he  had  been  reading. 

“William  Douglas.” 

“And  what  was  his  fathers  name?” 

“James.  But  why  do  you  ask?  Shall  I bring  forth  the 
l^enealogical  tree  ?”  she  asked,  mischievously. 

“Yes,  bring  it,”  he  said,  gravely,  and  with  something  of 
surprise  in  her  manner  she  obeyed. 

“Now  see  if  you  can  find  the  name  of  Sir  Frederick  Doug- 
las three  generations  back,”  he  said,  when  he  had  spread  it  out 

“Yes,  here  it  is.” 

“Now  who  was  his  heir?” 

“Sir  William  E.  Douglas.” 

“Does  the  table  give  the  name  of  his  son  ?” 

“No,  the  record  of  that  family  stops  there.” 

“I  thought  likely;  now  what  connection  is,  or  was  Sir  ^ 
William  E.  Douglas  to  your  branch  of  the  family?”  ? 


ANOTHER  REVELATION, 


Brownie  referred  again  to  the  chart. 

“Sir  William,  James,  my  grandfather,  and  auntie,  were  all 
the  children  of  Sir  Frederick  Douglas ; and  I never  knew  until 
this  moment  that  auntie  had  more  than  one  brother,''  Brownie 
said,  in  surprise. 

“That  is  strange ; and  he  was  the  heir  to  the  baronetcy,  too,'' 
returned  Adrian;  then  he  asked:  “What  is  the  date  of  his 
death?" 

“1840.  It  is  put  here  in  auntie’s  own  handwriting.” 

“That  is  thirty-six  years  ago.  Then  Sir  William  Douglas 
was  your  father's  uncle,  which  makes  him  your  grand-uncle, 
and  just  the  same  relation  to  you  that  Miss  Mehetabel  Douglas 
was.  ” 

“Well,  what  does  all  this  mean,  Adrian?” 

“It  means  that  Sir  Edgar  Douglas  was  Sir  William  Douglas' 
heir,  and  he  being  deceased,  also  his  son  and  only  child  Eddie, 
there  does  not  seem  to  be  any  immediate  heir  to  the  property, 
which  probably  is  entailed,  or  this  advertisement  would  not 
have  appeared,”  Adrian  replied,  as  he  handed  it  to  his  wife  to 
read. 

. She  read  it,  and  then  turned  to  the  genealogical  table  again 
with  a flushed  face.  After  a few  minutes  she  looked  up  with  a 
puzzled  expression,  and  said  : 

“I  have  an  idea  of  what  you  are  thinking,  Adrian,  but  I 
cannot  quite  make  it  out.  ” 

He  took  pencil  and  paper,  and  after  a few  moments  placed 
the  following  diagram  before  her  ; 

I Sir  Frederick  Douglas,  | 


Sir  Wm.  Douglas  | 

Mehetabel  Douglas 

1 James  Douglas 

Dead. 

Dead. 

, Dead. 

Sir  Edgar  Douglas  | 

1 Wm.  Douglas 

Dead. 

Dead. 

Eddie  Douglas  1 

Dc^4. 

1 Mehetabel  Douglas 

434 


ANOTHER  REVELATION, 


‘^According  to  that  you  are  the  only  living  relative  and  heit 
of  Sir  Edgar  Douglas/’  he  said. 

''Do  you  suppose  it  can  be  true?  ’ she  asked,  gravely. 

"We  will  apply  to  Capel  & Armand  and  see,  dear." 

Accordingly  they  ordered  a carriage  and  drove  to  Gray’s  Inn, 
taking  Miss  Mehetabel’s  precious  family  tree  with  them. 

Brownie  used  to  have  her  patience  severely  tried  in  the  days 
w^hen  Miss  Mehetabel  would  descant  upon  her  illustrious  birth 
and  ancestry,  and  often  wished  this  same  family  tree  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  ocean,  little  thinking  of  the  future  good  it  was  to 
bring  her. 

They  were  most  kindly  received  by  Messrs.  Capel  & Armand, 
and  after  listening  to  Adrian’s  explanation,  and  thoroughly  ex- 
amining the  record,  they  fully  agreed  with  him  that  Brownie 
was  the  person  whom  they  were  seeking. 

They  congratulated  her  upon  her  good  fortune,  telling  her 
that  there  was  a fine  estate  at  Winchester,  and  also  a handsome 
town-house,  which  would  now  become  hers,  and  that  in  her 
own  right  she  possessed  an  independent  fortune. 

"How  strange!”  Brownie  exclaimed,  tearfully,  when  they 
were  once  more  alone,  and  talking  the  matter  over  again,  "that 
the  little  darling  should  be  of  my  own  kin.” 

‘ ‘ It  is,  indeed,  ^and  I never  thought  of  the  coincidence  of 
names  when  Sir  Edgar  and  his  wife  came,”  replied  Adrian. 

"I  am  so  glad  that  he  fell  into  our  hands,  instead  of 
swangers ; yet  I grieve  for.  the  poor  little  fellow  and  his  father, 
who  was  just  in  the  prime  of  life.  It  is  sad  that  my  gain  must 
come  from  poor  Lady  Douglas’  misfortune.” 

And  the  young  heiress  looked  more  sorrowful  than  joyoui 
over  the  change  in  her  fortunes. 

. "It  is  sad,  dearest;  and  I was  satisfied  with  my  wife  just  a* 
she  was ; but,  I suppose,  that  this  will  go  to  prove  to  Mrs. 
Grundy  that  I have  not  made  a mesalliance  after  all,”  Adrian 
returned,  somewhat  scornfully, 


ANOTHER  REVELATION, 


415 


*'It  never  rains  but  it  pours,”  is  the  homely  old  adage,  and 
the  next  day  brought  a lengthy  epistle  from  Mr.  Conrad,'  of 
Philadelphia,  stating  that  the  concern  in  which  he  had  invested 
so  much  of  Miss  MehetabeFs  property  had  formed  a new  stock 
company,  which  had  assumed  all  the  obligations  of  the  old 
one,  which  they  would  cancel  at  their  earliest  convenience. 

It  might  be  some  time,  he  wrote,  before  they  could  make 
over  the  whole  amount  to  her,  but,  meantime,  they  would  con- 
tinue the  interest  on  the  whole,  and  make  a yearly  deposit  in 
whatever  bank  she  saw  fit  to  designate,  unless  she  should  prefer 
to  let  her  shares  remain  as  they  had  been. 

And,  the  honest  lawyer  added,  things  were  beginning  to  look 
brighter  to  him,  also,  and  he  hoped  to  be  able  soon  to  do  some- 
thing for  her  on  his  own  account. 

Brownie  rejoiced  more  on  Mr.  Conrad’s  account  than  on  her 
own,  since  the  burden  which  crushed  him  so  heavily  at  the  time 
of  his  confession,  would  now  be  in  a measure  lifted. 

She  answered  his  letter  immediately,  telling  him  of  her  for- 
tunes and  misfortunes — telling  him,  too,  not  to  worry  too  much 
over  her  money  matters,  since  she  had  found  that  the  filthy 
lucre  was  not  the  most  needful  thing  in  the  world  ; and  she 
closed  with  a cordial  invitation  to  him  and  his  family  to  visit  her 
should  they  ever  come  to  England. 

One  day,  not  long  after,  it  was  necessary  for  Brownie  to  g® 
to  Capel  & Armand’s  to  sign  some  papers  regarding  her  coming 
into  possesion  of  the  estate  at  Winchester. 

Adrian  accompanied  her  as  far  as  the  door,  where  he  was 
obliged  to  leave  her  to  transact  some  business  of  his  own. 

She  mounted  the  stairs  to  the  office,  swung  open  the  door, 
entered,  and  found  herself  face  to  face  with  Lord  Dun  forth  ! 

He  did  not  recognize  her,  for  he  had  only  seen  her  once 
while  she  was  at  the  castle,  and  he  could  not  associate  this 
elegantly  clad,  blooming  woman,  with  the  pale,  black-robed 
figure,  who  had  been  so  attentive  to  Lady  Ruxley’i  wants. 


4i6 


ANOTHER  REVELATION 


At  all  events,  he  thought  her  wondrously  beautiful  now,  and  I 
wondered  who  she  could  be. 

Brownie  knew  him  instantly,  and  the  rich  color  flew  to  her  ' 
cheek,  but  she  did  not  lose  an  atom  of  her  self-possession.  ^ 
Her  manner  was  perfect,  her  language,  as  she  conversed  with  ! 
the  lawyers,  was  choice  and  fluent,  while  the  little  hand  with  ; 
which  she  signed  the  documents  they  placed  before  her,  was 
white,  and  soft,  and  tapering — ‘'a  sure  sign  of  a lady,''  his  I 
lordship,  who  was  watching  from  behind  his  paper,  said  to  him-  j 
self.  j 

He  had  never  had  any  dealings  until  that  day  with  Capel  & i 
Armand,  and  therefore  they  knew  comparatively  little  of  his  1 
lordship — they  did  not  even  know  that  Mr.  Dredmond  and  he 
were  in  any  way  connected  ; but  a little  matter  of  business  had  I 
called  him  hither,  and  he  had  happened  to  be  there  when  ^ 
Brownie  entered.  i 

‘‘A  remarkably  lovely  woman  that,"  Mr.  Capel  said  to  him,  ? 
after  Brownie's  departure.  1 

'^She  is,  indeed.  Who  is  she.?"  i 

‘'She  is  heiress  to  the  property  of  Sir  Edgar  Douglas,  who  \ 
died  so  suddenly  a couple  of  weeks  since. " 

“Ah,  yes  I I heard  that  he  left  no  heir.  That  was  a sad  cir-  ^ 
cumstance."  > 

“It  was,  indeed,  for  his  rent  roll  at  Winchester  is  no  mean  ;; 
one,  and  his  town-house  will  compare  favorably  with  the  best. " 

“So  I have  been  told ; but  how  does  this  young  lady  happen 
to  inherit  them  ? Whose  child  is  she  ?"  i 

“Sir  Edgar's  father.  Sir  William  Douglas,  and  her  grandfath-  i 
er,  James  Douglas,  were  brothers,  each  of  whom  had  but  one  1 
child,  a son,  and  they  in  turn  had  only  one  child,  one  a son,  j 
the  other  a daughter.  Sir  Edgar's  son,  as  you  are  aware,  died 
only  a few  days  previous  to  his  father,  and  that  leaves  this  lady  ^ 
the  sole  surviving  relative.  Her  own  parents  died,  one  just  : 
before  her  birth,  the  other  just  after,  leaving  her  to  the  care  of  \ 

I 


ANOTHER  REVELATION 


417 

a maiden  aunt,  Miss  Mehetabel  Douglas,  who  left  this  country 
many  years  ago,  and  settled  in  Philadelphia,  U.  S. 

‘*Sir!  What  V demanded  his  lordship,  to  whom  this  news 
was  like  a thunderbolt,  which  opened  the  old  wound  afresh. 

‘‘Yes,  her  own  name  was  Mehetabel  Douglas  until  her  mar- 
riage ; she  was  named  for  her  aunt.  My  lord,  you  are  ill  1* 
said  the  lawyer,  startled  to  see  him  grow  so  white,  while  his 
hand  shook  so  that  the  paper  he  held  rattled. 

“No,  no  ; go  on.  Then  you  say  they  are  all  dead,  except 
ing  this  young  lady  ?”  he  cried,  trying  with  a mighty  effort  tq 
steady  his  nerves. 

“Yes,  Miss  Mehetabel,  the  elder,  died  less  than  a year  ago, 
the  young  woman  tells  me.  They  were  supposed  to  be  very 
wealthy  at  her  death,  but  a series  of  misfortunes  deprived  them 
of  everything,  and  this  young  lady  obtained  a situation  aa 
governess  in  a family  that  was  coming  abroad.  Strange,  isn't 
it,  how  things  work  around,  and  that  she  should  come  here  to 
walk  right  into  this  fortune  ?" 

It  was  passing  strange,  his  lordship  acknowledged  ; and  this 
beautiful  young  girl  was  the  niece  of  his  lost  love,  and  hei 
adopted  child,  doubtless. 

He  wished  he  had  known  of  this  before  she  left ; he  would 
have  requested  an  introduction,  and  by  that  means  he  would 
have  learned  all  about  his  lost  one's  life.  As  it  was,  he  resolved 
to  seek  her  out  at  his  earliest  convenience,  and  learn  more  of 
her  and  her  antecedents. 

Then  there  suddenly  arose  a thought  which  troubled  him. 

If  this  young  lady  was  Miss  Mehetabel's  only  living  relative, 
how  came  Miss  Isabel  Coolidge  by  those  jewels  ? Could  it  be 
that  the  poor  child  had  been  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  selling 
them?  It  did  not  yet  occur  to  him  that  she  was  the  poor,  dis- 
carded governess  of  whom  Adrian  had  told  him. 

But  no,  ho  could  not  believe  that  a Douglas  would  be  guiltj 


4x8 


another  revelation 


of  parting  with  precious  heirlooms  for  filthy  lucre,  ro  mattei 
how  destitute  she  might  become. 

Strange  that  he  did  not  associate  this  tale  with  the  one  which 
Adrian  had  told  him,  but  it  did  not  occur  to  him. 

‘'You  say  the  young  lady  is  lately  married,''  he  said,  resum- 
ing hifi  conversation  with  the  lawyer,  and  determined  to  learn 
all  he  could. 

“Yes,  I think  it  is  not  more  than  two  or  three  weeks  since 
the  event  occurred." 

Lord  Dunforth  did  start  now,  remembering  that  that  was 
about  the  time  of  Adrian's  marriage.  Still  the  truth  did  not 
enter  his  mind,  as  his  next  words  proved. 

“You  say  she  was  a governess  previous.  Whom  did  she 
marry?  I trus^4he  has  not  made  a mesalliance ; the  Douglases 
are  remarkably  good  stock.  I used  to  know  the  family  inti- 
mately," he  concluded,  with  a troubled  brow. 

“You  are  right;  they  were  always  a fine  family.  I do  not 
think  that  the  young  lady  has  brought  any  disgrace  upon  it, 
however,  for  her  husband  appears  to  be  a very  fine  man.  His 
name  is  Dredmond — Adrian  Dredmond." 

His  lordship's  face  turned  ghastly  at  this,  and  he  looked  up 
at  the  loquacious  lawyer  in  a dazed  kind  of  way. 

He  saw  it  all  now ; and  his  injustice  and  unkindness  to 
Adrian  stood  out  before  him  in  its  most  glaring  colors,  while 
the  cruelty  of  which  he  had  been  guilty  to  the  child  of  his  dar- 
l^g^s  love  smote  his  heart  with  a pang  which  well-ni^h  turned 
the  strong  man  faint. 

“You  are  surely  ill,  my  lord!"  Mr.  Capel  said,  alarmed  at 
his  appearance,  and  pouring  out  a glass  of  wine,  he  brought  it 
to  him,  thinking  it  strange,  too,  that  the  story  should  affect  him 

so. 

“Thank  you;  it  is  merely  a sudden  dizziness,  it  will  pass 
soon."  he  said,  as  he  drank  the  wine;  then,  after  he  had  re- 


A NO  THE  REVELATION. 


41^ 

ptined  bis  scattered  senses  somewhat,  he  arose,  bade  the  lawyer 
good-morning,  and  departed. 

His  first  and  only  love  was  dead,  and  his  heart  told  him  that 
she  had  been  true  to  him  to  the  last,  from  the  fact  of  her  never 
having  married 

But  how  could  he  meet  her  the  future  and  answer  for  dll 
the  insult  and  abuse  he  had  heaped  upon  the  child  of  her  love. 

He  had  called  her  a beggar ! and  his  brow  grew  hot  with 
shame  at  the  thought,  while  he  wondered  if  she  would  ever  for- 
give him ; for,  of  course,  although  she  might  never  know  of 
the  epithets  he  bad  applied  to  her,  she  must  know  of  his  bittef 
opposition  to  her  marriage  with  Adrian,  and  something  of  its 
cause. 

He  wondered  if  she  had  recognized  him  as  she  came  into 
Capel  & Armand’s  office. 

‘Hf  she  did,  the  little  witch  displayed  wonderful  dignity  and 
self-possession,  I don't  blame  the  boy  for  falling  in  love  with 
her,"  he  muttered. 

Then  he  remembered  how  earnestly  Adrian  had  begged  him 
to  listen  while  he  explained,  and  he  would  not ; how  hi^  had 
returned  unopened  his  letter,  which  doubtless  contained  ail  the 
information  and  more  than  he  had  gained  to-day ; and  he 
•ought  his  elegant  home  in  Upper  Grosvenor  street,  in  a rd- 
markably  humble  frame  of  mipd  for  so  oroud  a man. 


4:^0  'I'HE  cynosure  OE  ALL  EYES. 


I CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

THE  CYNOSURE  OF  ALL  EYES. 

Lord  Dunforth,  without  acquainting  his  wife  of  the  change 
in  his  feelings,  called  the  next  day,  as  early  as  the  rules  of 
etiquette  would  allow,  at  the  Langham,  and  desired  to  be  shown 
to  Mr.  Dredmond's  apartments. 

He  was  informed,  much  to  his  disappointment,  that  Mr. 
Dredmond  and  his  wife  had  left  town  for  a few  days. 

Like  all  truly  noble  natures,  when  he  found  he  was  in  the 
wrong  he  was  willing  to  acknowledge  it,  and  anxious  to  atone 
as  far  as  lay  in  his  power;  but  nothing  remained  now  but  to 
wait  with  patience  until  the  return  of  the  young  couple. 

Adrian  and  his  wife  had  decided,  upon  talking  the  matter 
over,  to  wait  until  the  return  of  the  Coolidges  from  Paris  be- 
fore making  their  trip  to  West  Mailing,  meantime  they  would 
run  down  to  Winchester  to  pay  poor  Lady  Douglas  a visit  and 
take  a look  at  Winship  Towers. 

At  her  earnest  request  they  spent  several  days  with  Sir  Ed- 
gar s widow,  who  immediately  became  very  much,  attached  to 
Brownie,  while  she  in  turn  was  pleased  with  her  cousin,  and 
insisted  that  she  should  continue  to  make  Winship  Towers  her 
home  just  as  long  as  she  desired. 

They  found  the  estate  in  fine  condition,  and  a truly  noble 
inheritance. 

Upon  their  return  to  London  they  found  numerous  cards 
and  invitations  from  families  in  high  life  .awaiting  them,  re- 
questing the  pleasure  of  Mr.  Dredmond  and  lady  s presence, 
etc.,  etc.  One  for  that  evening  called  them  to  Manchester 
House,  the  residence  of  the  Marquis  of  Hertford^ 


THE  CYNOSURE  OF  ALL  EYES. 


421 


''The  world  is  really  waking  up  to  the  fact  that  you  are 
actually  married,  Adrian,''  Brownie  said,  mischievously,  as  she 
turned  over  the  dainty  missives,  but  her  cheeks  were  glowing 
with  indignation. 

The  report,  without  doubt,  had  spread  that  Mr.  Dredmond's 
wife  was  Sir  Edgar  Douglas'  heiress,  and  she  hated  this  element 
of  caste,  which  weighed  a person  according  to  his  or  her  posi- 
tion in  the  world,  rather  than  for  their  intrinsic  worth. 

"Yes,"  her  husband  replied,  laughing,  "a^d  I wish  to  show 
(hem  that  I have  chosen  a wife  woi  th  viarrying!  I want  you  to 
look  especially  elegant  to-night.  Do  you  need  anything  to 
embellish  your  toilet 

Brownie  laughed  merrily  at  this  question,  and  taking  him  by 
the  arm,  led  him  to  her  dressing-room,  where,  throwing  open 
the  door  of  one  of  the  enormous  wardrobes,  she  commanded 
him  to  look  and  choose  for  himself  what  he  would  have  her 
wear. 

Dresses  of  silk,  and  satin,  and  lace^;  dresses  for  morning 
wear,  for  reception,  for  dinner,  carriage,  and  evening,  in  every 
conceivable  hue,  variety,  and  style  greeted  his  eyes. 

He  smiled  as  she  asked  : 

"When  and  where  shall  I ever  have  an  opportunity  to  dis- 
play all  these } And  you  ask  me  if  I need  more ; don't  add  to 
my  burdens,  please,"  she  concluded,  wdth  mock  gravity. 

"It  does  seem  rather  unnecessary,  I admit,"  he  replied,  run- 
ning his  critical  eye  over  the  elegant  collection  ; then  he  added  : 
"I  think  I would  like  to  see  you  wear  this  to-night,"  and  he 
designated  a delicate  peach-colored  silk  of  exceeding  richness, 
trimmed  v/ith  flounces  of  elegant  lace,  headed  by  graceful 
wreaths  of  fuchsias  and  lilies  of  the  valley. 

It  w^as  a marvel  of  taste  and  art,  and  very  lovely  did  the 
young  bride  look  upon  emerging  from  the  skillful  hands  of 
Milly. 

Truly  the  girl  had  rare  taste  and  deft  fingers. 


422 


THE  CYNOSURE  OF  ALL  EYES, 


She  had  woven  Brownie's  hair  into  a coronet  to  make  lier 
slight  form  look  taller  and  more  regal. 

Her  dress  fitted  her  as  if  she  had  been  molded  into  it,  while 
the  skirt  swept  out  behind  her  in  a long,  graceful  train,  and 
just  cleared  the  floor  in  front  sufficient  to  reveal  the  tiny  white 
kid  hoots,  with  their  embroideries  of  pale  pink  coral.  The 
corsage  was  low  in  the  neck,  and  finished  around  the  shoulders 
with  a delicate  vine  of  the  fuchsias  and  lilies  to  match  the  gar- 
nishings  of  the  skirt. 

She  wone  the  pearls  which  Lady  Dunforth  had  given  her — ^ 
the  lovely  necklace,  bracelets,  the  ear-pendants,  and  the  deli- 
cate spray  for  the  hair. 

Surely  no  queen  could  have  looked  more  royally  elegant 
than  did  this  delicate,  dainty  young  wife. 

"'My  darling,"  exclaimed  Adrian,  as  she  swept  into  the 
drawing-room,  "how  beautiful  you  are,  and  how  proud  I am 
of  you !"  and  he  held  out  his  arms  as  if  about  to  clasp  her  to 
him ; but  drawing  suddenly  back,  he  added  : "But  no;  I will 
not  crush  a single  bud,  nor  disarrange  one  of  those  perfect 
folds." 

"Don't  be  foolish,  dear,"  Brownie  replied,  nestling  close  to 
him,  and  clasping  her  own  arms  around  his  neck ; "the  dress  is 
nothing  to  me  except  as  it  pleases  you,  and  makes  me  look 
more  lovable  in  your  eyes ; besides,  I do  not  wish  to  look  too 
new.” 

Adrian's  marriage — or  rather  the  news  of  it — had  spread 
like  wild-fire  among  the  elite  of  London,  and  many  were  the 
comments  and  sneers  poured  upon  the  unknown  American 
behind  her  back  for  having  been  so  successful  in  "taking 
him  in." 

Comparatively  little  was  really  known  of  her,  or  their  mar- 
riage, excepting  that  it  had  been  very  sudden  and  quiet,  and 
voilhout  the  sanctioning  presence  of  Lord  and  Lady  Dunforth. 

Contrary  to  Brownie's  surmise,  the  report  of  her  sudden 


THE  CYNOSURE  OF  ALL  EYES. 


423 


accession  to  wealth  and  position  had  not  yet  become  very  gen- 
erally known,  and  Mrs.  Grundy  was  exceedingly  curious  to  be- 
hold this  rara  avis  which  had  created  such  an  unexpected  com- 
motion in  polite  circles. 

When  at  length  ''Mr.  Dredmond  and  lady''  were  announced 
at  Manchester  House,  there  was  a sudden  hush,  a stretching  of 
necks — yes,  even  in  that  noble  crowd,  for  human  nature  is  the 
same  the  world  over — and  all  eyes  were  turned  toward  the  door 
as  they  entered. 

Brownie  knew  that  she  was  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes,  and 
although  her  heart  beat  rather  more  quickly  than  usual,  not  a 
muscle  of  her  pure,  patrician  face  quivered  as  they  threaded 
their  way  through  the  crowd. 

A delicate  bloom  was  upon  her  cheek,  her  lips  glowed  like 
scarlet  berries,  and  her  eyes  gleamed  with  a brilliancy  that 
made  them  wondrously  beautiful. 

It  was  a moment  of  triumph  to  her  idolizing  husband  when 
she  was  presented  to  the  Marquis  and  Marchioness  of  Hertford, 
and  greeted  them  with  graceful  yet  perfect  self-possession,  while 
the  manner  of  her  salutation  was  remarked  by  hundreds,  and 
they  were  dumb  with  surprise  and  admiration  at  both  her  ex- 
ceeding beauty  and  grace. 

Could  this  be  a governess — a girl  of  questionable  character 
and  birth — a plebeian  American .? 

Lord  and  Lady  Dunforth  were  both  present,  and  had  been 
gratified  witnesses  of  the  presentation,  and  both  were  as  proud 
of  Adrian  and  his  peerless  bride  as  if  they  had  been  first  and 
foremost  in  sanctioning  the  marriage,  instead  of  so  bitterly 
opposing  it. 

Lady  Dunforth  s gentle  heart  went  out  at  once  to  the  lovely 
wife  with  a love  second  only  to  that  which  she  bore  Adrian. 
She  recalled  her  own  long-lost  child,  for  whom  she  had  yearned 
with  a mighty  longing  during  all  the  long  years  since  her  death, 
and  convinced  as  she  was  of  Brownie's  gentle  breeding,  she 


424 


THE  CYNOSURE  OF  ALL  EYES, 


was  now  fully  prepared  to  give  her  a daughter's  place  in  he! 
affections. 

Lord  Dunforth,  on  the  contrary,  inwardly  cursed  himself 
anew  at"  having  been  so  precipitate  in  his  denunciation  of  his 
grandson  and  his  ‘^plebeian  bride,"  if  he  had  only  waited  until 
he  had  seen  her  he  never  would  have  been  so  rash ; and  he 
began  to  turn,  over  in  his  mind  the  best  way  to  get  out  of  a bad 
fix.  He  knew  Adrian  would  wish  to  present  his  wife  to  him, 
and  he  dreaded  to  meet  her  scorn ; the  sight  of  her  in  her 
proud  beauty  carried  him  vividly  back  to  the  time  when  he  had 
so  joyfully  presented  her  aunt  as  his  betrothed,  and  he  turned 
away  with  almost  a groan,  as  he  remembered  how  that  joy  had 
been  suddenly  turned  into  mourning. 

'Hs  she  not  lovely.?"  whispered  her  ladyship  in  his  ear,  as  hoc 
lyes  wistfully  followed  their  retreating  forms. 

‘'Lovely  as  an  angel,  but  proud  as  a queen,  I ween!"  he 
muttered,  wishing  that  the  meeting  between  himself  and  that 
dignified  little  lady  was  well  over  with. 

Adrian’s  fond  heart  leaped  with  exultation  at  the  homage 
which  was  being  paid  his  darling,  and  the  surprise  which  he 
saw  expressed  in  every  eye  contributed  not  a little  to  his  amuse- 
ment. 

People  crowded  around  for  introductions,  and  he  well  knew 
that  all  were  eagerly  watching  every  word  and  movement  for  an 
opportunity  to  sneer  and  criticise ; but  no  one  could  detect  a 
flaw,  in  either  appearance  or  manner,  wherewith  to  prove  that 
the  future  Lady  of  Dunforth  had  not  been  “to  the  manner 
bora." 

But  a more  signal  and  unexpected  triumph  awaited  them. 

They  were  busy  receiving  and  responding  to  congratulations, 
when  all  at  once  a familiar  voice  fell  upon  Brownie's  ear,  giving 
her  a violent  inward  start. 

She  pressed  Adrian's  arm  without  giving  any  other  sign,  and 


THE  CYNOSURE  OF  ALL  EYES.  425 

he,  glancing  up,  saw  Lady  Randal,  Mrs.  Coolidge,  Sir  Charles, 
and  Isabel  approaching  them. 

Another  moment  the  crowd  separated,  and  they  stood  face  to 
face. 

Sir  Charles  and  his  party  were  evidently  taken  entirely  by 

rprise,  for  Mrs.  Coolidge,  as  her  eyes  fell  upon  the  despised 
governess,  became  white  as  the  fan  of  costly  feathers  that  she 
held  in  her  hand. 

Isabel  grew  crimson  with  anger  and  mortification,  especially 
as  she  had  on  at  that  moment  the  young  girl's  diamonds,  and 
she  looked  as  if  she  longed  for  the  earth  to  open  and  devour 
her. 

Sir  Charles,  however,  hastened  forward,  with  an  expression 
of  real  pleasure  upon  his  fine  face,  and  grasping  Adrian  warm- 
ly by  the  hand,  offered  his  congratulations,  and  begged  to  be 
presented  to  his  bride. 

Brownie  received  him  gracefully  and  cordially,  but  vouch- 
safed to  Isabel  only  a haughty  lifting  of  her  beautifully  arched 
brows.  She  bowed  distantly  to  Lady  Randal,  and,  ignoring  en- 
tirely the  presence  of  Mrs.  Coolidge,  she  turned  to  speak  to 
some  one  at  her  side. 

Sir  Charles  flushed  angrily  at  this  marked  slight  of  his  be^ 
trothed  and  her  mother,  and,  with  a haughty  bow,  passed  on. 

am  sorry  on  his  account,  darling;  but  it  could  not  be 
helped,  and  you  treated  them  just  as  you  ought,"  Adrian  whis- 
p)ered. 

“I  see  that  people  have  remarked  it,"  Brownie  replied,  with 
heightened  color;  '‘but  I could  not  have  done  otherwise  had 
the  queen  herself  been  an  eye-witness." 

“Now  I perceive  that  a still  greater  trial  awaits  you,"  her 
husband  said,  as  he  saw  Lord  and  Lady  Dunforth  approaching  ; 
“but  I know  you  are  fully  equal  to  it." 

They  both  knew  that  many  curious  eyes  were  listened  upon 
them,  to  see  how  these  greetings  would  be  exchanged. 


42^  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes. 

Many  and  various  had  been  the  reports  circulated  regarding 
his  lordships  sentiments  concerning  his  grandson's  marriage; 
but  if  people  were  expecting  any  demonstration,  they  were 
deeply  disappointed. 

Lord  Dunforth  approached  and  shook  his  boy  heartily  by  the 
hand,  and  then  turned,  with  a very  pale  but  benignant  face,  to 
the  young  bride. 

She  could  not  take  his  hand,  but  swept  him  a charming 
courtesy,  with  every  appearance  of  marked  respect ; then,  with 
very  bright  eyes,  and  her  slender  form  very  erect,  she  turned  to 
greet  her  ladyship,  and  was  soon  chatting  upon  the  most  friend- 
ly terms  with  her. 

''By  Jove!"  muttered  Lord  Dunforth  to  himself,  "she  un- 
derstands herself  perfectly.  The  most  critical  could  find  no 
fault  with  her  greeting ; and  yet  to  me  it  is  very  evident  that  I 
shall  be  obliged  to  hoist  a flag  of  truce  before  we  can  come  to 
any  terms  of  peace.  Tm  glad  of  it,"  he  added,  his  eyes  resting 
admiringly  upon  the  bright  face;  "it  just  suits  me.  My  own 
Meta  was  not  more  regal. " 

Turning  to  Adrian,  he  said,  with  a suspicious  tremble  in  his 
voice : 

' ' I heartily  congratulate  you,  my  boy.  Shall  there  be  peace 
between  us.?" 

"Certainly,  my  dear  sir,  if " 

"I  understand  you,"  he  interrupted,  "and  I find  no  flaw  in 
her.  Indeed,  Adrian,  I am  as  proud  of  your  triumph  to-night 
as  you  can  possibly  be. " 

"Thank  you.  If  you  had  read  the  letter  I wrote  you  all 
unpleasantness  might  have  been  avoided,  for  in  it  I explained 
that  she  is  a niece  of  your— of  a Miss  Douglas  whom  you  used 
to  know, " Adrian  returned. 

"I  know  all  about  it,  my  boy,"  his  lordship  said,  in  a husky 
voice.  "I  discovered  all  the  other  day  when  I met  your  wife  at 
Capel  & Armand's." 


THE  CYNOSURE  OF  ALL  EYES. 


427 


^'Yes,  she  told  me  you  were  there/' 

^‘What!  did  she  recognize  me?"  and  the  color  flew  to  hig 
face,  as  he  recalled  Brownie's  entire  self-possession,  and  how 
she  had  ignored  his  presence. 

‘'Oh,  yes;  you  know  she  was  at  Castle  Dunforth  several 
weeks  since,  and  it  is  not  likely  she  would  forget  you  so  soon, 
especially  as  she  already  knew  so  much  about  you." 

“True,"  he  returned,  with  a troubled  look,  adding  : “I  shall 
call  upon  you  immediately,  Adrian,  and  I hope  to  persuade 
you  to  return  to  us — we  are  very  lonely." 

“Thank  you ; but  we  will  talk  further  of  that  another  time. 

I We  shall  be  delighted  to  see  you  at  the  Langham,  and  I have 
much  more  to  tell  you  regarding  the  circumstances  of  the  past 
three  or  four  weeks,"  Adrian  returned,  gravely. 

Meanwhile  Isabel  and  her  mother  were  in  anything  but  a 
comfortable  frame  of  mind. 

They  had  been  thunderstruck  upon  beholding  Brownie,  in 
all  her  glory,  leaning  upon  Adrian's  arm. 

They  had  not  dreamed  of  such  a thing  as  her  already  being 
his  wife,  and  while  they  were  intensely  relieved  to  find  that  no 
evil  had  befallen  her,  yet  they  .experienced  the  direst  concern 
regarding  the  future  for  themselves. 

There  was  no  enjoyment  for  them  after  that  uncomfortable 
encounter,  and,  pleading  fatigue,  they  persuaded  Sir  Charles  to 
; withdraw  almost  immediately,  while  they  racked  their  brains 
trying  to  solve  the  riddle  of  the  young  girl's  escape  from  that 
! secret  chamber. 

j They  had  returned  from  Paris  rather  earlier  than  they  had 
; anticipated,  their  arrangements  regarding  the  trousseau  having 
been  more  easily  effected  than  they  had  expected,  so,  as  Sir 
i Charles  was  anxious  to  be  back  at  Vallingham  Hall  to  superin- 
; tend  some  alterations  which  he  desired  completed  before  his 
;i  marriage,  they  had  hastened  home. 

On  reaching  London  they  had  found  cards  awaiting  them  for 


428  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes. 

the  ball  at  Manchester  House,  and  remained  to  attend  the  fes- 
tivities. 

They  had  seen  hardly  any  one  since  their  arrival,  consequent- 
ly  knew  nothing  of  the  nine  days'  wonder  which  was  agitating 
the  minds  of  the  Londoners. 

Lady  Randal  professed  to  be  horrified  at  the  course  which 
Adrian  had  taken,  and  hoped  his  grandfather  would  disown 
him  forever  for  the  disgrace  he  had  brought  upon  the  family. 
She  believed  that  he  knew  all  the  time  where  Miss  Douglas  was 
that  evening  when  he  had  so  boldly  announced  his  betrothal, 
and  had  only  told  them  of  the  engagement  to  soften  the  scan- 
dal of  the  act  he  was  even  then  contemplating.  Of  course,  not 
being  cognizant  of  the  part  the  Coolidges  had  played  in  the 
little  drama,  this  was  the  only  construction  she  would  be  likely 
to  put  upon  the  matter. 

Sir  Charles  was  highly  indignant  at  the  treatment  which  his 
party  had  received,  while  at  the  same  time  he  was  secretly  un- 
lasy  about  the  whole  affair. 

He  could  not  understand  it,  and  the  more  he  pondered  upon 
it  the  more  puzzled  he  grew,  for  he  felt  that  there  must  be 
something  underneath  it  all  which  ought  to  be  accounted  for 
and  thoroughly  sifted. 

Yet  after  Mrs.  Dredmond  s reception  of  his  betrothed,  which 
to  him  appeared  almost  like  a public  insult,  he  was  too  proud 
and  too  deeply  wounded  to  seek  any  explanation  from  Adrian, 
between  whom  and  himself  until  now  the  firmest  friendship  h^ 

auMd. 


BUR  YJNG  THE  HA  TCHE  T, 


4^9 


CHAPTER  XL. 

BURYING  THE  HATCHET. 

Lord  and  Lady  Dunforth  called  again  at  the  Langham  th« 
next  morning,  but  found  they  had  been  forestalled  by  numerous 
other  callers,  whom  Brownie  was  entertaining  in  the  most 
charming  manner. 

She  received  his  lordship  w'lth  proud  but  respectful  dignity 
which,  while  it  grieved  him,  yet  it  also  excited  his  admiration 
that  she  should  thus  resent  the  injury  he  had  done  her. 

One  by  one  the  other  visitors  departed,  until  at  length  they 
were  left  alone  with  the  young  couple. 

After  a few  moments  spent  in  a pleasant  chat.  Lady  Dunforti 
whispered  a few  words  in  Brownie’s  ear. 

She  smiled  and  nodded  compliance,  then,  turning  with  in- 
imitable tact  to  her  husband,  said  : 

“Adrian,  Lady  Dunforth  is  anxious  to  inspect  the  wedding 
wardrobe  and  gifts ; will  you  attend  her  while  I entertain  his 
lordship } If  you  need  any  explanations  Milly  can  make  them. 

Adrian  saw  the  point  of  all  this,  and  rising  he  gave  his  arnj 
to  his  grandmother,  and  conducted  her  from  the  room. 

Brownie  knew  that  this  moment  must  come,  and  was  grate^ 
ful  to  the  countess  for  so  delicately  opening  the  way  for  those 
explanations  which  were  needful. 

She  wore  an  elegant  reception  dress  of  a golden  brown  tint, 
with  pale  pink  trimmings,  and  soft:  ruchings  of  lace  at  her 
throat  and  wrists,  and  Lord  Dunforth  thought  she  looked,  if 
possible,  more  beautiful  than  she  had  the  previous  evening. 

He  was  glad  to  be  left  alone  with  her,  yet  man  of  the  world 


BURYING  THE  HATCHET, 


though  he  was,  he  felt  a terrible  awkwardness  stealing  over  him, 
and  he  scarcely  knew  how  lo  break  the  ice.  The  young  wife, 
however,  set  him  at  his  ease  at  once. 

''My  lord,”  she  said,  "are  you  fond  of  flowers?  Adrian 
has  arranged  a veiy  choice  collection  in  my  little  conservatory , 
will  you  come  and  see  them  ?” 

She  arose  without  waiting  for  him  to  reply,  and  conducted 
him  to  a small  conservatory  leading  from  the  farther  end  of  the 
drawing-room,  where  there  were  indeed  the  most  lovely  flowers, 
while  above  two  beautiful  golden  canaries  were  singing  in  their 
gilded  cages. 

Here  the  young  wife  exerted  herself  to  entertain  him,  point- 
ing out  to  him  the  diiferent  varieties  of  plants,  and  made  her- 
^If  so  charming  that  his  lordship's  heart  yearned  to  be  at  peace 
with  her ; but  there  was  a reserve  about  her,  a thus-far-and-no- 
ferther  air  in  all  she  said,  which  plainly  told  him  that  the  first 
advances  must  come  from  him.  It  was  a trying  moment  for 
the  proud  peer,  but  taking  advantage  of  a pause  in  the  conver- 
sation he  bent  toward  her,  took  one  of  her  little  soft  hands  in 
his,  and  asked,  in  eager,  trembling  tones  : 

"Can  the  child  of  my  Meta's  care  and  love  forgive  an  old 
man  s folly?” 

Brownie's  lovely  face  crimsoned  instantly,  and  the  tears  sprang 
unbidden  to  her  eyes. 

She  had  not  expected  any  such  humble  apology  from  him. 
She  thought  he  would  be  stately  and  dignified,  and  would  yield 
his  haughty  spirit  only  so  far  as  he  could  do  so  gracefully ; and 
she  had  resolved  to  show  him  that  a Douglas  could  be  as  proud 
as  he ; so  she  was  wholly  unprepared  for  anything  so  subdued 
as  this. 

"I  have  wronged  you,”  he  went  on, .studying  the  beautiful 
fece,  "by  judging  you  without  knowing  you,  and  I have 
wronged  Adrian  in  thinking  that,  with  him,  caste  could  ever 
©utweigh  love.  He  is  a grand  and  noble  boy — all  my  hopes 


BUR  YING  THE  HA  TCHE T 


431 


centered  in  him,  and  I could  not  endure  the  thought  that 
his  heart  and  his  sympathy  for  any  one's  misfortune  should  have 
run  away  with  his  judgment.  But  I should  not  have  been  so 
hasty — I should  have  allowed  him  to  bring  you  to  us,  that  we 
might  have  been  convinced  of  the  worthiness  of  his  choice. 
And  I cannot  tell  you,  dear,  how  proud  and  happy,  how  re- 
lieved I am  to  find  his  selection  a most  fitting  one  after  all.'’ 

Ah  ! then  he  was  only  satisfied  with  her  now  because  he  had 
discovered  that  she  was  heiress  to  Sir  Edgar  Douglas,  and  a de- 
scendant of  the  one  whom  he  had  loved  in  his  youth ; not 
because  of  her  own  worthiness  to  be  his  wife,  and  her  ability  to 
make  him  happy.  It  was  the  pride  of  blood  after  all.  Thus 
she  interpreted  his  words. 

She  released  her  hand,  and  lifting  her  head  proudly,  said, 
with  some  hauteur : 

‘^Pardon  me,  my  lord,  if  I cannot  agree  with  you  in  think- 
ing that  I shall  make  Adrian  any  better  wife  for  having  noble 
blood  in  my  veins.  I have  been  brought  up  under  the  shadow 
of  democratic  institutions,  and  I believe  that  true  worth  should 
in  every  instance  be  considered  before  birth  or  position.  My 
being  a Douglas  does  not  change  in  the  least  degree  mp  charac^ 
ter. " 

She  looked  like  a little  queen  as  she  proudly  faced  him,  and 
fearlessly  advanced  her  independent  principles. 

He  liked  her  spirit,  and  was  compelled  to  acknowledge  to 
himself  that,  had  there  not  been  a drop  of  aristocratic  blood  in 
her  veins,  he  would  rather  Adrian  had  her  for  his  wife  than  half 
the  titled  belles  whom  he  knew. 

But  the  spirit  wais  on  him  to  try  her  still  further,  and 
asked : 

''But,  my  dear,  if  you  should  live  to  see  a son  grow  to  mau's- 
estate,  would  you  be  willing  for  him  to  seek  out  a wife  among 
the  mechanics  or  peasantry  ?" 


B UR  Y I NG  THE  HA  TC  HE  T, 


432 

It  was  a hard,  a trying  question,  and  Brownie  thought  a mck 
ment  before  replying.  Then  she  said  : 

“Sir,  I believe  that  the  worldly  condition  of  a person  makes 
no  difference  with  the  heart  or  intellect,  only  so  far  as  it  con- 
tributes advantages  of  education  and  culture.  If  my  son  should 
choose  a wife  whose  heart  was  pure  and  true,  whose  mind  had 
been  cultivated,  and  whose  nature  was  refined,  so  that  she  was 
his  equal  morally  and  intellectually  (for  otherwise  they  could 
never  be  congenial),  I should  never  dare  take  the  respon^bility 
of  destroying  the  happiness  of  a life-time,  were  she  titled  lady 
or  peasant  born. 

“What  a noble-hearted  little  woman  you  are  \”  his  lordship 
exclaimed,  in  admiration,  and  inspired  with  something  of  her 
own  enthusiasm. 

Then  he  added,  with  a little  smile  of  amusement,  while 
there  was  an  expression  of  earnest  entreaty  in  his  eyes : 

“My  dear,  I think  if  I had  another  grandson  I should  never 
dare  judge  his  bride  until  I knew  her  personally.  I like  and 
admire  you  just  as  you  are,  independent  of  your  being  a 
Douglas.  Now  shall  we  shake  hands  and  bury  the  hatchet,?'' 

She  looked  up,  and  their  eyes  met. 

She  regarded  him  earnestly  for  a minute. 

She  saw  that  he  was  really  grieving  over  the  injustice  he  had 
done  her,  and  was  sincere  in  the  sentiments  he  had  just  ex- 
pressed, and  she  hadn’t  it  in  her  heart  to  steel  herself  longer 
against  him. 

With  a witching  smile  and  gesture,  she  laid  both  her  handi 
in  his  outstretched  palm,  and  said,  archly : 

“I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  forgive  you  for  Adrian’s  sake, 
but  I begin  to  think  I shall  have  to  for  your  own,  and,”  she 
added,  in  a lower  tone,  the  tears  springing  to  her  eyes,  “be- 
cause auntie  loved  you  so  well.” 

His  hands  closed  over  hers  in  a strong,  tender  clasp,  and; 
bending  down,  he  pressed  a light  kiss  upon  her  forehead. 


BURYING  THE  HATCHET. 


433 


^‘Did  she?''  he  said,  eagerly  ; ‘'tell  me  about  her." 

He  led  her  to  a seat,  and  Brownie,  never  weary  of  talking  of 
the  dear  one  who  was  gone,  rehearsed  all  the  sad  story  which 
Miss  Mehetabel  had  told  her  on  that  last  day  of  her  life. 

When  she  told  him  about  the  note  which  Miss  Capel  had 
undertaken  to  deliver  his  lordship  became  greatly  excited. 

“Ah,  the  treacherous  girl!  I almost  suspected  it  when  it 
was  too  late,  and  but  for  her  I should  never  have  known  the 
sorrow  and  bitterness  I have  sutfered  all  these  weary  years.  Oh, 
Meta,  Meta,"' he  cried,  with  almost  a sob,  “it  was  too  hard 
when  I loved  you  so!  It  has  been  a terrible  wound,  and  one 
that  has  never  healed.  I cannot  even  hear  her  name  spoken 
without  its  ringing  forth  from  memory’s  chords  notes  of  an- 
guish. I would  not  wrong  the  living,"  he  hastened  to  say, 
“for  I honor  my  wife  as  a pure  and  noble  woman,  and  she  has 
ever  been  a kind  and  gentle  helpmeet,  but  that  love  was  the 
love  of  a life-time,  which  nothing  could  kill.  And  she  died, 
5^ou  say,"  he  continued,  wiping  the  tears  which  he  could  not 
stay,  “only  last  September,  true  to  the  last.  Oh,  fool  and 
blind  that  I was,  not  to  have  crushed  my  pride  and  forced  my 
way  into  her  presence!  But,"  and  he  started  fiercely  to  his 
feet  and  began  pacing  the  room,  “I  will  have  it  out  even  at 
this  late  day  with  that  traitoress.  Lady  Randal.  I will  know 
what  was  in  that  note  yet,  and  she  shall  know  that  her  perfidy 
is  discovered." 

“My  lord,  I have  the  note,"  interrupted  Brownie,  and  she 
told  him  how  she  had  gained  possession  of  it,  thinking  it  no 
wrong  to  take  it  under  the  circumstances. 

“It  was  perfectly  justifiable,  and  will  you  give  it  to  me?"  he 
begged. 

“Yes,  I will  get  it  for  you  before  you  go.'" 

Then  he  asked  her  about  the  mystery  of  the  jewels,  and  how 
Isabel  Coolidge  happened  to  have  them,  and  she  had  to  r^)eat 
all  the  circumstances  regarding  them, 


434 


B UR  YING  THE  HA  TCHE  T 


''You shall  have  them  again/'  he  cried.  "I  can  prove  that 
ewy  one  belongs  to  you.  That  girl  shall  give  them  up,  and  I 
only  hope  that  Sir  Charles  will  have  his  eyes  opened  before  it  is 
too  late." 

Brownie  smiled  as  she  thought  how  many  had  expressed  that 
wish,  and  just  at  that  moment  Adrian  appeared  with  Lady  Dun- 
foith, 

" Have  you  two  made  it  up?”  the  former  asked,  laughing, 
as  he  saw  how  confidential  they  had  become. 

"Yes;  and  Tve  promised  not  to  interfere  with  my  next 
grandsons  matrimonial  inclinations  in  any  way,"  Lord  Dun- 
foith  replied,  with  a sly  glance  at  Brownie,  as  he  shook  the 
young  man  s hand. 

He  laughed,  then  asked  : 

"Did. she  tell  you  how  they  made  her  a prisoner  down  at 
West  Mailing,  and  of  her  discoveries  there.?" 

"No." 

So  Adrian  related  that  circumstance  himself,  and  explained 
how,  when  he  found  her  cold  and  .desolate  the  next  morning, 
with  not  a friend  to  whom  to  flee,  and  feeling  it  impossible  to 
return  to  Lady  Ruxley,  he  had  proposed  on  the  spot  to  take 
her  away  in  the  only  way  in  which  he  could  do  so  honorably — 
by  making  her  his  wife,  and  so  they  had  come  immediately  to 
London  and  were  married. 

"Right,  my  boy,  and  I honor  you  for  it.  May  Heaven  for- 
give me  for  seeking  to  destroy  your  happiness  in  the  way  I did, " 
returned  his  lordship,  heartily,  while  his  horror  and  indignation 
against  Lady  Randal  for  her  conduct  regarding  her  younger  son 
was  boundless. 

Harmony  being  fully  restored.  Lord  and  Lady  Dunforth  spent 
the  day  and  dined  with  the  young  couple,  and  parted  from  them 
in  the  evening  upon  the  best  of  terms,  insisting  that  they  must 
sojourn  at  least  a part  of  every  year  at  Castle  Dunforth. 

"‘You  know  that  it  is  your  home,  Adrian—yours  and — may 


THE  IMPENDING  STORM. 


435 

I call  you  Meta  his  lordship  asked;  suddenly  turning  to 
Brownie,  and  speaking  the  name  with  infinite  tenderness. 

‘‘Yes,  do  ; I should  like  it,''  she  replied,  with  a smile. 

“Then,  my  children,  you  will  come  home  soon,"  he  added. 

“Yes,  sir,  we  will,"  and  Adrian  shook  his  hand  heartily. 

So  the  breach  was  healed,  and  the  gentle  Lady  of  Dunforth, 
who  never  dreamed  of  the  wound  which  had  been  concealed 
from  her  all  these  years,  nor  what  peculiar  reasons  her  husband 
had  for  regarding  the  young  wife  with  favor  and  even  affection, 
thanked  Heaven  that  peace  was  restored,  and  returned  to  Burn 
forth  with  a light  heart,  where  she  took  great  delight  in  prepar- 
ing for  the  coming  of  her  children. 

My  lord  kept  by  himself  for  a day  or  two.  The  past  had 
been  revived  in  all  its  keen  bitterness,  and  he  could  not  brook 
the  presence  of  others.  He  mourned  the  death  of  his  Meta, 
yet  he  experienced  great  comfort  in  the  knowledge  that  she  had 
loved  him,  and  him  alone,  until  the  end. 

Ah ! how  rare  are  such  instances  of  deathless  love. 


CHAPTER  XLL 

• THE  IMPENDING  STORM. 

For  a week  longer  calls  and  invitations  poured  in  upon  th4 
newly- we<ided  couple,  and  it  seemed  almost  '^possible  to  tear 
themselves  away  from  London. 

But  at  the  expiration  of  that  time  Adrian  thought  they  ought 
not  to  delay  their  visit  to  Vallingham  Hall  any  longer,  lest  the 
marriage  of  Sir  Charles  should  take  place,  and  they  be  off  upon 
the  Continent  before  they  could  secure  Brownie's  jewels. 

Besides,  he  had  it  in  his  power  to  save  his  friend  from  a life- 


436 


THE  IMPENDING  STORM. 


time  of  misery,  and  he  felt  that  he  would  be  doing  him  a 
grievous  wrong  did  he  not  warn  him  of  the  precipice  upon 
which  he  was  standing. 

Neither  did  he  think  it  would  be  right  to  allow  him  to  go 
away  without  acquainting  him  of  the  fact  that  he  had  a brother 
living,  for  of  course  that  circumstance  alone  would  make  a 
great  difference  in  his  future  prospects,  and  he  ought  to  know 
of  it  before  the  settlements  were  completed. 

Accordingly,  on  Monday  preceding  the  wedding,  which  was 
to  occur  upon  Wednesday,  the  loth  of  June,  they  went  down 
to  West  Mailing,  intending  after  their  errand  was  accomplished 
to  make  Lady  Ruxley  their  promised  visit,  and  then  repair  to 
Dunforth  Castle  for  a while. 

Lord  Dunforth  had  stipulated  that  he  was  to  be  one  of  the 
party  whenever  they  went  to  Vallingham  Hall,  consequently 
they  stopped  and  took  him  up  on  their  way. 

“You  will  need  me,'’  he  had  said,  “to  help  prove  your 
property  ; and  since  I purchased  some  of  the  jewels  myself, 
and  have  seen  them  all,  I can  identify  them  in  case  they  should' 
attempt  to  contest  your  right.  Besides,  we  may  as  well  finish 
the  whole  business  at  once,  and  Lll  call  Helen  to  account  for 
her  part  in  the  drama  of  my  life.” 

Brownie  dreaded  the  encounter  more  than  she  could  express, 
and  had  she  not  prized  the  jewels  more  on  account  of  theif 
sacred  associations  than  for  their  intrinsic  value,  she  never  wouW 
have  attempted, to  recover  them. 

Besides,  she  disliked  to  do  anything  which  would  appear  like 
revenge ; and  she  was  afraid,  nay  she  felt  very  sure  in  her  own 
heart,  that  Sir  Charles  would  decline  to  go  on  with  the  marriage 
when  he  should  learn  of  the  part  Isabel  had  taken  in  the  matter. 

They  arrived  at  Vallingham  Hall  about  four  o'clock,  and 
I^dy  Randal  came  to  the  drawing-room,  all  smiles,  to  receive 
them. 

She  had  recently  heard  who  Brownie  was,  and  of  the  auddoit 


THE  TMPEHDTNC  STOEM. 


437 


change  in  her  prospects,  so  she  adopted  the  role  of  ignoring  all 
the  '‘scandalous  circumstances''  of  their  marriage  which  had 
so  shocked  her,  and  was  exceedingly  gracious  to  them. 

It  would  be  very  unwise,  she  reasoned,  to  have  any  falling 
out  with  the  future  Lord  and  Lady  of  Dunforth. 

" How  kind  of  you,"  she  exclaimed,  "to  come  to  us ; we 
ought  to  have  called  upon  you  when  we  were  in  London,  but 
we  were  so  hurried  with  preparations  for  the  wedding  that  we 
had  no  time.  And  really  we  were  tired  out  with  our  trip. 
You  received  our  cards  for  the  ceremony  on  Wednesday,  I sup- 
pose she  concluded. 

"Yes,  we  received  them,"  Adrian  replied,  then  added,  "but 
we  called  to-day  to  see  Mrs.  Coolidge  and  Miss  Isabel  upon  a 
little  matter  of  business. " 

"I  presume  they  will  be  delighted  to  see  you.  The  trousseau 
has  just  arrived,  and  we  were  examining  it  just  as  you  came.  It 
is  perfectly  elegant,  I assure  you,  Mrs.  Dredmond,  and  I pre- 
sume Isabel  will  take  you  up  to  see  it ; I only  hope  we  shall 
have  a fine  day,  and  that  everything  will  pass  ofif  well.  How 
very  romantic  your  marriage  was,  my  dear,  " she  ran  on,  heed- 
less of  Lord  Dunforth's  threatening  looks,  "we  were  very  much 
distressed  about  your  sudden  disappearance,  and  I must  say, 
Adrian,  you  played  your  part  that  evening  exceedingly  well," 
and  she  laughed  slyly. 

" Played  my  part  well ! I do  not  understand  you,  madam," 
Adrian  returned,  astonished  at  the  accusation. 

" You  do  not  understand,  indeed!  when  you  knew  all  the 
time  where  she  was,  and  took  her  away  the  very  next  day  t© 
marry  her.  Really,  it  is  quite  an  unparalleled  case." 

"Lady  Randal,"  the  young  man  said,  sternly,  as  he  saw 
Brownie's  delicate  face  flush  painfully  at  these  insinuations,  "at 
any  other  time  I should  deem  your  words  an  unpardonable  in- 
sult, for  I knew  no  more  than  yourself  where  Miss  Douglas  was 
at  that  time  ; but  if  you  will  have  the  kindness  to  notify  your 


43§ 


THE  IMPENDING  STORM. 


guests  that  we  wish  to  see  them,  that  matter,  as  well  as  som4 
others,  will  soon  be  satisfactorily  explained/' 

Lady  Randal  colored  with  displeasure  at  his  words,  but  she 
rang  the  bell,  and  sent  the  servant,  who  appeared,  to  tell  Isabel 
and  her  mother  that  there  were  callers  for  them.  At  Adrian's; 
request  she  did  not  send  their  names,  as  he  feared  they  might 
refuse  to  see  them. 

She  saw  from  both  his  own  and  his  grandfather’s  manner 
tba:  a storm  of  some  kind  was  impending,  and  she  grew  rather 
neivous  trying  to  solve  the  puzzio. 

The  Coolidges  soon  presented  themselves  in  the  drawing- 
room, and  Sir  Charles  came  with  them. 

He  greeted  the  guests  somewhat  coolly,  for  he  could  not  for- 
get the  slight  his  betrothed  had  received  that  evening  in  London 
at  Manchester  House. 

Isabel  and  her  mother  felt  a sudden  shock  run  through  ali 
their  frame  when  they  saw  who  was  present,  but  the  latter  at 
once  resolved  to  cany  a high  hand  and  fight  the  battle  out 
bravely  to  the  end. 

Lord  Dunforth  and  Adrian  arose  and  bowed  coldly  as  they 
entered,  while  Brownie  inclined  her  head  the  merest  trifle  in 
the  world ; but  Isabel,  ignoring  her  manner,  began  gushingly, 
thinking  to  take  their  castle  by  storm  : 

‘‘Really,  Mrs.  Dredmond,  you  have  given  us  all  a terrible 
fright,  but  I am  rejoiced  to  find  that  nothing  worse  than  being 
married  has  happened  to  you.  I little  thought  / should  have 
to  tender  my  congratulations  first"  she  concluded,  turning  with 
a simper  to  Adrian. 

“Yes,"  put  in  her  mother,  before  any  one  else  could  speak, 
“I  suppose  we  shall  be  obliged  to  pardon  you  for  causing  us  all 
so  much  terror,  since  your  strange  disappearance  has  terminated 
so  happily." 

Brownie  could  endure  their  insolence  no  longer. 


THE  IMPENDING  STORM, 


43$ 

With  a haughty  mien,  which  would  have  become  an  outraged 
queen,  she  faced  her  enemies. 

‘'We  will  waive  that  topic,  if  you  please,"'  she  said,  icily, 
“until  we  have  settled  a little  matter  of  business.  Mrs.  Cool- 
idge,  I desire  to  relieve  you  of  a certain  casket,  with  its  con- 
tents, which  belongs  to  me,  and  which  you  have  in  your  pos- 
session. " 

Isabel  turned  pale,  while  Sir  Charles  and  Lady  Randal  listened 
in  amazement. 

Mrs.  Coolidge,  however,  was  equal  to  the  situaticfcr..  fum- 
ing to  her  daughter,  she  said  : 

“Oh,  yes;  Isabel,  won't  you  go  and  get  it?  Of  course  she 
yieeds  it  now.  If  we  had  only  known  your  address,"  she  added, 
graciously,  turning  to  Brownie,  “we  might  have  forwarded 
them  to  you. " 

Isabel  arose  to  do  her  mother's  bidding,  and  she  w’hispered 
to  her  as  she  did  so  : 

“You  must  manage  some  way  to  get  Sir  Charles  out  of  the 
room,  and  keep  him  out. " 

Isabel  turned  to  go,  and  got  as  far  as  the  door,  when  she 
looked  back  at  Adrian  and  his  wife,  and  said,  with  a slight 
blush  : 

“As  long  as  this  is  a business  call  to  mamma,  may  I beg  you 
to  excuse  Sir  Charles  and  me?  I assure  you  we  are  very  busy 
at  present. " 

They  bowed  coldly,  and  then  turning  to  her  lover,  she  said  : 

“Sir  Charles,  may  I speak  with  you  privately?" 

He  arose  and  followed  her  from  the  room  with  a perplexed 
brow.  He  did  not  exactly  like  being  called  from  guests  in  thi« 
way. 

“What does  all  this  mean he  demanded,  when  they  were 
alone  in  the  hall. 

“It  means  that  when  Miss  Douglas  went  away  from  us  she 


440 


Tim  IMPENDING  STORM. 


left  a box  containing  some  valuables  with  papa  for  safe  keeping,’^ 
was  the  glib  reply. 

She  had  been  expecting  gome  such  question,  and  had  the 
answer  all  ready. 

‘‘But  I thought  she  was  dismissed. 

‘‘So  she  was.  She  did  not  behave  with  propriety,  and 
mamma  would  not  keep  her  longer.  Papa  did  not  like  it  very 
well,  for  he  w^as  bewitched  with  her  pretty  face,  and  they  were 
good  friends,  so.  she  left  the  box  with  him  until  she  should  be 
settled  somewhere  else.  You  know  what  happened  after  that, 
and  we  have  never  had  an  opportunity  to  return  her  property 
(which  papa  left  in  our  keeping)  until  how.” 

All  this  sounded  very  reasonable  to  Sir  Charles,  but  still  he 
was  not  quite  satisfied. 

“What  did  she  do  that  was  so  very  improper  while  she  wag 
with  you  V he  asked.  “I  have  never  heard.” 

“Really,  Charles,”  Isabel  replied,  flushing  and  pouting  in  a 
grieved  way,  “I  do  net  like  to  enter  into  particulars  quite  s^i , 
minutely ; but  if  you  must  know,  why,  you  must,  I suppose. 
One  day  mamma  and  I were  out  on  a shopping  expedition, 
when  we  were  obliged  to  return  much  earlier  than  we  expected 
to.  On  entering  the  library,  we  found  Miss  Douglas  lying  in 
Wilbur's  arms,  with  apparently  as  much  composure  as  if  she 
w^ere  reclining  upon  a couch.” 

“Is  that  so  !”  exclaimed  Sir  Charles,  much  shocked.  “She 
does  not  seem  like  such  a person  at  all.” 

“Oh,  no  ; and  when  mamma  talked  with  her  about  it,  shg 
put  on  that  haughty,  queenly  air  which  you  noticed  the  other 
evening  in  London,  and  again  this  morning,  and  would  listen 
to  nothing.” 

‘^But  did  your  fether  uphold  her  in  this?”  Sir  Charles  asked 
her,  gravely. 

“ Oh,  no,  indeed  ; but  she  had  so  bewitched  Wilbur  that^^ 
took  all  the  blamie  upon  himself,  and  told  papa  something  so 


THE  IMP E HD  TNG  STORM. 


441 


that  he  excused  it,  and  she  made  him  think  she  was  the  injured 
one,  after  all/' 

Isabel  was  almost  frightened  at  herself  as  she  coined  these 
base  falsehoods  ; but  she  felt  that  the  truth  must  be  concealed 
from  him  for  the  next  two  days  at  all  hazards.  If  she  could 
only  bridge  them  over  until  the  fatal  vows  were  spoken,  and  she 
was  once  mistress  of  Vallingham  Hall,  all  would  be  well. 

I never  would  have  believed  her  to  be  guilty  of  such  indis- 
cretions if  you  had  not  told  me,"  Sir  Charles  said,  not  yet 
wholly  convinced,  but  greatly  disturbed  by  the  account. 

‘‘  No,  you  would  not,  nor  any  one  else,  she  is  so  demure  and 
lady-like/'  Isabel  hastened  to  say,  with  every  appearance  of 
fairness.  '^But  she  never  met  Mr.  Dredmond,  to  my  knowl- 
edge, more  than  three  or  four  times  in  her  life;  and,  to  my 
mind,  it  does  not  look  just  right  for  her  to  run  away  to  be  mar- 
ried to  him  upon  so  short  an  acquaintance." 

‘‘That  is  so.  It  does  not  seem  just  the  thing,  I must  con- 
fess. And  I am  surprised  at  Adrian,  too.  I thought  him  a 
man  of  more  depth,"  Sir  Charles  assented,  gravely.  Then, 
with  a fond  glance  into  the  face  of  his  betrothed,  he  asked  : 
"‘But  what  did  you  wish  of  me  } Can  I do  anything  for  you.^" 

“Yes,  indeed;  but  you  nearly  made  me  forget,  with  all  your 
catechising,"  she  laughed,  and  then  went  on:  “I  find  that 
my  dress  is  altogether  too  loose,  and  I must  have  a seamstress  to 
fix  it  immediately ; then  I find  I neglected  to  get  a pair  of 
pearl-colored  gloves  to  match  my  traveling  suit.  Would  you 
mind  riding  over  to  the  village  to  attend  to  itr 

She  did  not  need  either,  but  she  mus/  get  rid  of  him. 

“No,  indeed;  but  will  it  not  do  as  well  a couple  of  hours 
hence?  Our  callers  in  yonder  might  think  me  ungracious  to 
go  away  while  they  are  here." 

Isabel’s  heart  sank  ; she  must  get  him  away  at  once  if  possi- 
ble ; sne  knew  that  Adrian  Dredmond  would  allow  no  part  of 
their  meanness  to  be  concealed,  and  there  would  probably  be  a 


442 


THE  IMPENDING  STORM, 


hot  battle  before  they  were-through.  But  she  thought  if  shb 
could  only  get  her  lover  away  from  it  all,  maybe  they  could 
come  to  some  terms  with  Lady  Randal  to  conceal  the  affair 
from  him ; for  she  knew  she  was  as  anxious  as  any  one  for  the 
marriage  to  come  off.  But  it  would  not  do  to  let  him  mistrust 
how  anxious  she  was,  so  she  replied,  hesitatingly  ; 

‘'It  might  do  if  it  were  not  for  the  dress — that  must  be  at- 
tended to  at  once  ; and  then  if  you  do  not  succeed  in  matching 
my  dress  in  gloves,  I shall  have  to  send  up  to  town  for  them, 
and  you  know  we  have  no  time  to  spare.  ” 

"Would  it  not  do  to  send  a piece  of  the  dress  and  let  Brown 
do  the  errand  } I really  do  not  like  to  seem  uncourteous,  not- 
withstanding their  treatment  of  us  the  other  evening,''  he  re- 
plied. 

Isabel  flushed  angrily  at  the  remembrance. 

"No,  indeed,  I should  not  dare  trust  Brown  ; and  then  you 
forget  you  have  not  given  your  instructions  concerning  the  bell, 
which  was  to  be  made  at  the  village  florist's,  as  there  were  not 
japonicas  enough  in  the  greenhouse  here,"  Isabel  said,  catch- 
ing at  this  device  for  getting  him  away.  ‘ ' Besides, " she  added, 
"this  is  only  a business  call,  you  know." 

He  began  to  notice  her  anxiety  in  spite  of  her  forced  com. 
posure,  and  with  a searching  look  into  her  face  he  replied,  as 
he  turned  away  ; 

"True,  I had  almost  forgotten  about  that.  I will  attend  to 
your  commissions  at  once. " 

She  told  him  to  wait  one  moment  while  she  procured  a piece 
of  silk  to  match  the  gloves  by ; and  he  stood  there  with  bent 
head  and  contracted  brow  until  she  returned  with  it,  and  then, 
without  a word,  he  passed  out  toward  the  stables. 

The  guilty  girl  then  sped  back  again  to  her  room  as  if  on 
wings  to  bring  the  casket,  anxious  to  have  everything  settled, 
and  those  wretched  marplots  out  of  the  way  before  his  return. 

As  she  re-entered  the  drawing-room  she  saw  at  a glance  that 


THE  IMPENDING  STORM. 


her  tnother  was  very  much  disconcerted  about  something,  and 
she  heard  Adrian  say,  sternly  : 

‘‘Then,  madam,  you  still  assert  that  you  were  very  much  sur- 
prisedy  as  well  as  distressedy  at  Miss  Douglas'  disappearance  ?" 

“Certainly;  how  could  it  be  otherwise?"  she  demanded, 
haughtily,  but  very  pale. 

“Were  you  a man,"  he  returned,  with  biting  scorn  in  his 
tones,  “I  should  not  thus  privately  bandy  words  with  you — 
you  should  answer  publicly  for  what  you  have  done  ; and  it  is 
time  your  complicity  in  this  matter  be  exposed." 

“I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  interrupted,  “but  Isabel  has  re- 
turned with  the  box  for  which  you  came,  and  as  we  are  ex- 
tremely busy,  you  will  kindly  excuse  us  from  a longer  inter- 
view. " 

She  arose  as  if  to  leave  the  room,  but  Adrian  advanced  a step 
or  two,  and  said,  firmly  : 

“Not  so,  madam;  you  have  done  my  wife  altogether  too 
much  injury,  and  covered  up  your  iniquity  too  long  to  admit 
of  my  keeping  silence  now.  You  have  sneered  and  tried  my 
patience  beyond  endurance  to-day  with  your  insinuations  con- 
cerning a ‘clandestine  marriage,'  and  it  is  but  just  and  right 
that  she  should  be  exonerated  in  the  presence  of  Lady  Randal 
from  all  blame  for  what  you,  by  your  cruelty,  drove  her  to." 

“ Good  heavens ! Adrian,  explain  yourself  I am  all  in  a 
maze!  What  do  you  mean  by  all  this  talk  about  complicity, 
iniquity,  and  cruelty  ?"  demanded  Lady  Randal,  looking  from 
one  to  another  in  perplexity. 

Mrs.  Coolidge  saw  that  the  truth  would  have  to  come  now, 
and  she  sank  back  pale  and  trembling  into  her  chair,  while 
Isabel  burst  into  nervous  weeping. 

Adrian,  in  the  fewest  words  possible,  told  the  story  of  the 
jewels,  and  her  ladyship  knew  before  he  had  finished  thaC  every 
word  he  uttered  was  truth. 

She,  too,  began  to  s:row  pale  and  nervous,  as  she  r^lized 


444 


THE  IMPENDING  STORM^ 


that  his  wife  was  the  niece  of  the  woman  whom  she  had  so 
deeply  injured,  and  conscience  stung  her  sharply  as  these  mem- 
ories of  the  past  were  revived. 

“Mrs.  Dredmond,"'  said  Lord  Dunforth,  who  had  scarcely 
spoken  yet,  “'will  you  please  open  that  casket,  anjd  allow  me 
to  look  at  its  contents  Y' 

Brownie  lifted  the  lid,  for  the  lock  had  been  forced  after  she 
had  taken  the  key,  and  it  was  only  fastened  by  the  spring,  and 
revealed  the  glittering  treasures  it  contained. 

Lady  Randal  uttered  a cry,  and  gasped  out : 

“I  might  have  known  it  in  the  first  place.  I thought  I had 
seen  them  before,  especially  those  corals.'' 

“Ah  ! you  recognize  the  cordis,  then.?  Possibly  you  remem- 
ber the  firsj;  and  only  time  this  lady's  aunt  wore  them,  years  and 
years  ago?"  said  his  lordship,  with  bitter  irony,  while  his  own 
face  blanched,  and  great  drops  of  sweat  stood  upon  his  forehead. 
“Those  jewels,"  he  went  on,  striving  for  composure,  “were 
given  to  Miss  Mehetabel  Douglas,  the  grand-aunt  of  Mrs. 
Dredmond,  niore  than  forty  years  ago.  I myself  presented 
those  corals,  also  that  tiara,  with  one  or  two  other  pieces.  The 
others  were  given  her  in  honor  of  her  approaching  marriage 
with  myself" 

Mrs.  Coolidge  nearly  screamed  at  this  announcement.  Yes, 
she  saw  it  all  now ; the  mystery  was  all  explained — the  titled 
names  upon  the  dancing-card,  the  faded  flowers,  and  everything 
which  had  so  puzzled  her. 

But  Brownie,  thinking  a little  more  explanation  was  neces^ 
sary,  lifted  the  velvet  bed,  and  taking  up  that  dancing-list, 
passed  it  to  him,  and  asked  him  to  unlock  the  secret  of  it, 
since  it  had  greatly  troubled  Mrs.  Coolidge  and  her  daughter. 

He  took  it ; but  his  hand  shook  as  with  the  ague,  as  he  read 
the  names  upon  it. 

“This,"  he  said,  turning  first  to  Mrs.  Coolidge,  then  to  Lady 
Randal,  with  stern  brow,  “}s  th«  order  of  dances  as  they 


THE  IMPENDING  STORM. 


44S 


curred  upo«i  a certain  occasion  at  the  house  of  jour  aunt,  Lady 
Ruxley,  more  than  forty  years  ago.  Do  you  remember,  Helen 

‘^Yes,  I remember,”  her  lips  articulated,  while  her  eyes 
seemed  fastened,  as  if  by  fascination,  upon  him. 

He  referred  to  the  card  again,  and  though  his  face  was  ghastly 
from  the  pain  he  was  suffering,  he  went  on  : 

‘‘Do  you  remember  a certain  Count  de  Lussan  who  v/as 
present  that  evening  ?” 

She  bowed  her  head.  She  could  not  have  spoken  at  that 
moment  to  save  her  life,  so  great  was  the  fear  in  her  heart,  while 
all  the  events  of  that  fatal  night  rose  up  before  her  with  a vivid- 
ness which  turned  her  sick  and  faint. 

Good  heavens ! would  she  ever  forget  that  gorgeous  room, 
the  brilliant  lights,  the  enchanting  music,  and  the  perfume  o{ 
flowers,  which  she  fancied  even  now  oppressed  her? 

Would  she  ever  forget  the  dark,  handsome,  though  sinister 
Sice  of  Count  de  Lussan,  with  its  mocking  smile,  as  he  watched 
that  bright,  beautiful  girl  who  stood  hesitating  between  love  and 
pride,  until  her  own  taunting  laugh  drove  the  good  angel  from 
her  side,  and  the  joy  of  two  lives  was  crushed  out  forever  ? 

And  why  should  he,  Royal  Dunforth,  come  to  h^  now,  like 
an  accusing  spirit,  to  recall  all  these  things  of  the  past? 

His  next  question  told  her  something  of  his  purpose. 

“Do  you  know  how  it  happened  that  a man  of  his  character 
was  present  among  respectable  people?” 

“Yes;  he  came  at  my  brother's  invitation,  my  lord,”  she 
•ftid,  lifting  her  head,  and  speaking  defiantly. 

“True;  but  at  instigation,  and  to  serve  a vile  purpose 
of  your  own.  It  was  through  your  maneuvering  that  he  was 
introduced  to  Miss  Douglas,  and  it  was  your  taunts  which 
spurred  her  on  to  disgrace  herself  and  dance  with  him,  in  spite 
of  her  better  judgment  and  my  persuasions.  I mistrusted 
something  of  it  when  it  was  too  late,  and  you^  by  that  last  vile 


446 


THE  IMPENDING  STORM. 


act,  which  I have  only  recently  discovered,  had  separated  us 
forever. 

‘'And  pray  what  terrible  deed  have  you  discovered  at  ftiis  late 
day?''  her  ladyship  demanded,  sarcastically,  although  she  was 
colorless  as  a piece  of  marble,  and  her  lips  twitched  nervously. 

“This ! Do  you  remember  ever  seeing  it  before  ?" 

He  took  from  his  pocket  a folded  paper,  yellow  and  creased 
with  age,  and  advancing,  gave  it  into  her  hands. 

Lady  Randal,  never  for  a moment  dreaming  what  it  was, 
took  it  wkh  a sneer,  for  she  was  growing  bitterly  angry  at  his 
accusations,  opened  it,  and  read  it. 

For  an  instant  she  sat  like  one  stunned,  but  she  was  livid 
even  to  her  lips,  and  a trembling  seized  her  which  shook  her 
like  a reed. 

“Where  did  you  get  this?"  she  whispered,  hoarsely,  after  a 
moment. 

“Accident  threw  it  into  my  hands — how,  it  does  not  matter 
now;  but  it  reveals  all  your  vile  plot  to  separate  Meta  and  me, 
in  which  you  succeeded  only  too  well." 

“But  how  do  you  know  that /had  anything  to  do  with  this 
note  ? I do  not  see  that  you  have  proved  what  you  assert  at 
all,"  she  said,  bridling. 

“She  gave  that  note  to  her  servant  to  bring  to  me,  you  met 
her  on  the  stairs,  said  you  would  deliver  it,  and  then  came  and 
told  me  that  Meta  refused  to  see  me  then  or  at  any  other  time  ; 
have  I proved  my  point  now?"  he  asked,  sternly. 

She  saw  all  was  discovered,  and  made  no  reply,  and  he  went 
on  : 

“Mrs.  Dredmond,  as  you  know  already,  is  my  Meta's  grand- 
niece. At  her  aunt's  death  she  found  herself  very  unexpectedly 
reduced  to  the  necessity  of  earning  her  own  living.  She  found 
a place  as  governess  in  Mrs.  Coolidge's  family,  and  came  abroad 
with  them.  One  day  when  she  was  out,  she,"  pointing  to 
Isabel,  who  sat  pale  and  cowering,  “entered  her  room,  where 


THE  IMPENDING  STORM. 


447 


she  discovered  this  casket  of  jewels.  She  took  them  to  hef 
mother,  and  they  both  came  to  the  conclusion  that  a poor  gover- 
nesshdiA  no  business  with  such  valuables — that  she  must  have 
stolen  them  ! They  accused  her  of  it  upon  her  return,  and  re- 
fused to  give  up  the  jewels  until  she  could  prom  them  to  be 
hers." 

“ Why  didn't  she  demand  them,  and  take  the  law  to  enforce 
her  rights  then.?"  demanded  Lady  Randal,  sharply.  ''It  does 
not  sound  like  a very  probable  story  to  me.  How  do  you  know 
she  is  Meta  Douglas' niece.?  I believe  you've  been  taken  in 
yourself. " 

She  was  determined  not  to  believe  anything  against  her  guests 
if  she  could  help  it.  Matters  had  gone  so  far  now,  that  she 
could  not  have  the  match  between  Sir  Charles  and  Isabel  broken 
off;  the  scandal  of  it  would  be  unbearable,  to  say  nothing  of 
the  loss  of  Isabel's  fortune,  which  she  believed  to  be  enormous. 
They  had  been  expecting  Mr.  Coolidge  for  a week,  and  thought 
surely  he  would  be  there  to-day,  when  the  settlements  were  ta 
be  arranged,  and  there  must  be  no  trouble  now. 

"We  have  indisputable  proof.  Lady  Randal ; and  as  for  Miss 
Douglas  taking  the  law  to  enforce  her  rights,  she  fully  intended 
to  do  so  when  she  left  Mrs.  Coolidge's  house  ; but  you  remem- 
ber the  accident  which  occurred,  and  which  threw  her  into  your 
family : and  then  before  she  was  fully  recovered  Lady  Ruxley 
brought  her  down  here. 

" The  day  when  she  so  strangely  disappeared  she  met  Mijss 
Coolidge  in  the  upper  corridor,  as  she  was  going  out  for  her 
walk.  She  again  demanded  her  property,  and  was  again  re- 
fuBed.  Upon  returning  to  the  Hall,  in  passing  Miss  Isabels 
room,  she  saw  the  casket  upon  the  table,  she  entered  and  took 
it,  and  was  about  leaving  the  room  when  Mrs.  Coolidge  con- 
fronted her,  demanding  that  she  put  down  the  casket  She 
when  the  woman  locked  the  door,  putting  the  key  In 


THE  IMPENDING  STORM. 


448 

her  pocket,  saying  she  could  not  leave  the  place  until  she  r©* 
linquished  it. '' 

‘'Really,  Lady  Randal/'  interrupted  Mrs.  Coolidge,  rising, 
apparently  in  great  wrath,  “I  cannot  remain  to  endure  further 
insult.  It  seems  to  me  we  have  listened  long  enough  to  this 
harangue,  as  we  have  other  matters  of  more  importance  on  hand 
just  now  v/hich  demand  our  attention." 

“ Please  be  seated, " she  returned,  “we  will  hear  this  whole 
story  now.  I must  confess  it  does  not  sound  very  plausible  to 
me,  but  we  will  hear  their  side,  and  then  your  own." 

She  little  thought  how  the  “whole  story  " would  affect  her ! 

“Go  on,"  she  added,  to  Lord  Dunforth;  but  Adrian  now 
took  up  the  story. 

“Miss  Douglas  utterly  refused  to  give  up  her  property  again, 
and  the  two  had  a stormy  scene,  until  Mrs.  Coolidge  finally 
professed  to  be  willing  to  temporize  with  her,  and  pretending 
to  take  her  into  her  own  room,  enticed  her  into  a secret  cham- 
ber which  she  had  discovered " 

“What!  the  treasure  chamber!"  ejaculated  Lady  Randal, 
excitedly,  and  losing  all  her  color  again. 

“I  do  not  know  what  the  place  is  called,"  Adrian  replied^ 
“but  she  locked  her  within  it,  and  kept  her  there  without  food 
or  light,  or  even  a chair  to  sit  upon  until  midnight,  when  she 
and  her  daughter  sought  her  again,  and,  by  stratagem  and  force 
combined,  succeeded  in  getting  possession  of  the  jewels  again. 
Then  they  brought  her  food  and  bedding,  telling  her  she  was 
to  remain  there  until  after  the  wedding,  since  they  could  not 
run  the  risk  of  her  making  them  trouble  and  interfering  with 
Aeir  prospects. " 

“ 'Tis  felse  !"  shrieked  Isabel,  nearly  beside  herself. 

“Be  quiet,  my  daughter,"  said  Mrs.  Coolidge,  soothingly. 
Then  turning  to  Lady  Randal,  she  asked  : “Can  you  believe 
such  a tissue  of  falsehoods  } No  one  has  seen  the  girl  from  the 
time  she  parted  witlr  my  childr^  in  the  park  that  day  ’Witil 


•* WHERE  ts  My  Brother 


44^ 

after  her  mamage.  It  is  a preposterous  story,  and  only  fabricated 
to  save  the  parties  most  interested  from  the  scandal  usually  at- 
tending a clandestine  marriage.  Besides,  what  is  all  this  talk 
about  a secret  chamber.?*’'  she  concluded,  scornfully. 

Lady  Randal  looked  at  her  in  a dazed  kind  of  a way,  while 
a terrible  fear  was  tugging  at  her  heart. 

“But how  could  she  know  there  is  a secret  chamber  unlea® 
she  had  seen  it?— and  it  leads  from  Isabel’s  room.  Goon, 
Adrian,  I must  hear  all  now,”  she  said,  in  a low,  concentrated 
tone. 

He  gave  her  a look  of  compassion,  and  resumed  : 

“Miss  Douglas  arranged  her  bed,  striving  to  make  the  best 
of  her  situation,  and,  being  very  weary,  soon  fell  into  a sound 
slumber.  She  was  not  conscious  of  how  long  she  had  slept, 
but  she  was  suddenly  awakened  by  a feeling  that  some  one  was 
in  her  room,  and  upon  opening  her  eyes  saw  the  strangest  being 
she  ever  beheld  kneeling  by  her  side.” 

“Oh,  heavens!”  breathed  Lady  Randal,  sinking  back  in  hei 
chaii,  and  covering  her  face  with  her  trembling  hands. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

’‘where  is  my  brother?” 

Isabel  and  her  mother  now  forgot  some  of  their  own  fear 
when  they  saw  Lady  Randal  so  unnerved. 

It  had  been  a matter  of  great  mystery  to  them  how  their 
prisoner  escaped,  and  it  seemed  that  it  was  about  to  be  ex- 
plained ; and  Mrs.  Coolidge,  with  her  ready  wit,  began  to  think 
that  the  skeleton  of  the  house  was  to  be  revealed  also. 


450 


‘‘t4^}iERE  IS  MY  BROTHER 


^'This  person/'  Adrian  resumed,  ''proved  to  be  a youn^ 
man  by  the  name  of " 

"Oh,  spare  me  I — in  mercy,  spare  me,  Adrian!"  cried  the 
guilty  woman,  springing  toward  him,  with  outstretched  hands 
and  agonized  face. 

"Spare  you  1 Have  you  spared  your  own  flesh  and  blood  V* 
demanded  Adrian,  sternly.  "Have  you  ever  felt  an  atom  of 
mercy  for  your  own  son,  whom,  for  over  twenty  years,  you  have 
doomed  to  almost  solitary  confinement,  away  from  the  sunlight 
and  fresh  air,  depriving  him  of  the  simplest  rights  which  a hu- 
man being  craves — liberty  and  his  own  place  in  the  world? 
Oh,  heartless  mother  that  you  are  ! it  is  but  just  and  right  that  the 
world  should  know  that  Herbert  Randal,  your  third  son,  because 
of  a deformity  with  which  God  saw  fit  to  inflict  him,  has 
been  loathed  by  the  woman  who  bore  him,  and  that,  to  further 
the  interests  of  your  favorite  child,  you  have  kept  him  secreted 
for  years,  hoping  that,  in  his  feeble  state,  every  }'ear  would  be 
his  last,  and  your  guilty  course  never  become  known.  But  God 
is  merciful,  and  the  time  for  restitution  is  at  hand  ; and,  be  it 
known  to  you,  it  was  througTi  him  Miss  Douglas  was  released 
from  her  confinement. " 

He  then  went  on  and  explained  at  length  how  it  had  trans- 
pired ; how  he  had  found  Brownie,  cold  and  trembling,  and 
exhausted  from  excitement  and  terror,  in  the  grove  in  the 
rear  of  the  Hall,  and  had  persuaded  her  to  give  him  the  right 
to  protect  her  at  once. 

He  explained  their  journey  to  London,  in  company  with 
Nurse  Glum  and  Mill^’^,  .and  concluded  by  saying  : 

"We  intended  returning  hither  immediately,  but  unforeseen 
circumstances  prevented ; and  when  at  length  1.  was  enabled  to 
come,  you  were  gone  to  the  Continent.  We  should  not  have 
intruded’ upon  you  to-day  had  we  not  deemed  it  best  to  secure 
this  casket  before  Sir  Charles  and  his  wife  should  leave  again." 

"Indeed  I intended  expressing  the  jewels  to  her  just  as  soon 


^‘W^HERE  IS  MY  BROTHERr^  451 

as  the  wedding  was  over, ''  sobbed  Isabel,  who  was  now  com- 
pletely unnerved,  and  believed  all  was  over  for  her. 

''Cease  your  silly  crying,  and  wipe  your  tears  commanded 
her  mother,  in  a whisper.  -'Don’t  you  see,”  she  went  on,  hur- 
riedly, "that  we  have  the  game  all  in  our  own-hands  now  ! It 
is  not  a pleasant  pickle  to  be  in,  I admit,  but  Lady  Randal’s 
situation  is  much  worse.  Sir  Charles  knows  nothing  of  all  this, 
thanks  to  our  getting  him  out  of  the  room,  and  if  we  will 
consent  to  overlook  his  mother  s very  questionable  conduct,  of 
course  she  will  be  glad  to  keep  dark  about  our  affairs,  and  we 
will  have  the  wedding  yet,  though  I shall  not  envy  you  after- 
ward if  Sir  Charles  ever  finds  this  out.  ” 

During  Adrian’s  recital  Lady  Randal  sat  cowering  in  her 
chair,  in  a terror-stricken  condition. 

That  all  her  dark  plottings  and  her  wickedness,  w^hich  she 
believed  were  so  successfully  concealed,  should  thus  be  brought 
to  light,  and  at  the  very  time,  too,  when  she  was  most  anxious 
that  no  shadow  should  touch  her  fair  fame,  was  a most  crushing 
blow. 

When  the  young  man  concluded  there  was  an  awkward 
silence  for  a few  moments,  except  for  Mrs.  Coolidge’s  whispering 
to  Isabel,  and  then,  lifting  her  haggard  face,  Lady  Randal 
asked : 

"Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it.?” 

"What  are  we  going  to  do  about  it,  madam!”  exclaimed 
Lord  Dunforth,  in  astonished  tones.  "/  should  ask,  what  are 
you  going  to  do  about  it  ? Of  course  we  all  expect  to  vSee 
justice  done  at  once.” 

"You  shall!”  she  said,  eagerly;  adding:  "Yes,  it  is  a/1 
true.  We  were  traveling  that  summer  wtien  he  was  born  , we 
were  stopping  just  at  the  time  in  a picturesque  village  in  Savoy, 
and  my  husband  was  called  away  to  Paris  on  business.  He  was 
absent  a fortnight,  during  which  time  Herbert  was  born.  I can 
never  tell  you,”  she  went  on,  shuddering,  "what  a frightful  ob- 


45^ 


WHEM  IS  MV  BROTHEk?^^ 


ject  he  was.  His  present  appearance  is  nothing  to  what  he  wai  1 
as  a baby,  and  I prayed  the  nurse  to  take  him  from  my  sight,  j 
and  never  let  me  look  upon  him  again.  My  husband  was  ' \ 
detained  long  beyond  the  time  he  had  anticipated,  so  that  at  the 
vend  of  three  weeks  I was  well  and  strong  again.  Then  it  came 
to  me  t^t,  as  he  had  not  been  with  me,  and  fully  believing  that 
the  child  could  not  live  long  anyway — both  the  doctor  and  the 
nurse  affirmed  it — 1 deemed  it  would  be  better  to  keep  all  ; 
knowledge  of  its  existence  from  him.  I could  not  travel  with 
it  in  its  feeble  state,  and  it  would  be  exceedingly  painful  to  do  j 
so  if  I could,  so  I made  arrangements  with  the  nurse  to  care 
for  it  as  long  as  it  should  live,  and  never  let  any  one  know  whose  > 
child  it  was.  - 

‘‘1  wrote  my  husband  that  my  child  had  been  born,  telling 
him  it  was  better  it  should  die,  since  such  a poor  little  cripple  | 
could  not  live  long  at  the  most,  and  said  I would  join  him  in  1 
Paris  in  a few  days,  as  it  was  intolerable  for  me  to  remain  1 
longer  where  I had  suffered  such  a severe  disappointment.  ] 
When  I met  him  he  seemed  grieved  and  sorrowful,  yet  he  never  i 
questioned  me  further,  and  so  I kept  my  secret  until  his  death.  | 
After  that  I concluded  to  bring  the  child  here,  since  the  nurse  1 
wrote  me  that  he  was  getting  unmanageable,  and  so  I fitted  up  'j 
those  secret  chambers  as  comfortable  as  I could,  and  have  kept  .i 
him  there.  God  knows  that  I could  not  willfully  have  wronged  4 
the  child  so,  but  after  that  first  concealment  it  seemed  impos-  J 
sible  to  confess  his  existence,  and  so  it  has  gone  on  until  now.  . 
He  has  always  been  feeble,  and  I have  thought,  from  year  to  ^ 
year,  that  he  could  not  live,  and  that  if  he  did  not,  it  would  be  - 
better  if  his  existence  was  never  known.''  j 

Have  you  never  considered  the  sufferings  and  feelings  of  the 
poor  boy.?"  demanded  his  lordship,  wrathfully.  ; 

She  shrunk  as  if  he  had  struck  her.  j 

‘‘Oh,  yes,"  she  moaned;  “but  I saw  no  way  out  of  it  with-  ^ 
#ut  bringing  disgrace  upon  Charles  and  all  of  us." 


/s  my  brother? 


453 


“Do  you  think  he  wod\d  jiphold  you  in  such  a deed?'' 

“No,  no!  Oh,  how  you  torture  me  ! But, "she  said,  look- 
ing up  pitifully,  “you  will  not  ^"ake  any  public  action  against 
me?" 

“Public  action !"  he  repeated,  %»oatemptuously.  “Could  any 
public  action  restore  those  twenty  years  of  his  lost  life  to  the 
poor  boy  ? No;  but  I want  justice  now." 

“He  shall  have  it.  I will  strive  as  fav  as  I can  to  repair  the 
injury  I have  done  him,  just  as  soon  as  we  ^re  through  with  the 
wedding — that  is,  if  Isabel  is  willing  to  go  on  with  it  after  this," 
sh<?  said,  regarding  the  young  girl  somewhat  doubtfully. 

Mrs.  Coolidges  heart  leaped  at  this;  it  was  just  the  con- 
dition of  all  others  she  most  desired  Lady  Randal  to  be  in. 
Rising,  she  went  over  to  her  side,  and  holding  out  her  hand, 
said;  with  an  appearance  of  great  magnanimity  : 

“I  regret  exceedingly  that  anything  so  very  dreadful  should 
have  occurred,  but  we  have  all  done  wrong.  I am  ready  to 
acknowdeige  my  share  regarding  Mrs.  Dredmond.  Shall  we 
then  overlook  each  other's  faults,  and  still  allow  ou^  children, 
who  are  not  to  blame,  to  be  happy  V 

Tne  guilty  mother  grasped  her  hand  eagerly. 

/‘And  you  will  not  betray  me  to  Charles  just  y^t?"  she 
gasped. 

‘ ‘ Certainly  not ; you  must  confide  in  him  yourself  when  you 
think  proper.  I think  myself  it  would  be  wiser  not  to  tell  him 
until  after  his  return  from  his  tour,  for  it  might  destroy  all  his 
pleasure.  When  once  he  is  settled  at  home  again,  then  all 
these  things  can  be  explained,"  she  said,  suavely. 

Nothing  could  exceed  the  expression  of  scorn  visible  upofer 
the  laces  of  their  three  noble  guests  at  this  piece  of  contem, 
plated  subterfuge. 

Lord  Dunforth,  towering  aloft  in  his  indignation,  advanced, 
and  stood  before  the  two  w^omen. 

“No,  madam/'  he  said,  firmly;  “you  may  hide  what  els^ 


454 


WHERE  IS  MV  BROTHER 


you  choose  from  him,  but  Sir  Charles  must  be  acquainted  this 
day — nay,  this  hour — with  the  fact  that  he  has  a brother/' 

The  attention  of  all  was  at  this  moment  attracted  by  a slight 
noise  at  the  other  end  of  the  drawing-room. 

Another  instant  5,nd  they  were  thunder-struck  to  behold  Sir 
Charles  himself  staggering  toward  them  like  a drunken  man. 
His  face  was  haggard  and  drawn,  as  if  he  had  but  jtist  recovered 
from  a convulsion;  even  his  lips  were  white  and  rigid,  while 
his  forehead  shone  with  the  clammy  moisture  which  a fierce 
agony  had  drawn  forth. 

Isabel  sprang  forward,  with  a sharp  cry  of  pain,  but  he  warded 
her  off  by  a motion  of  his  hand. 

His  mother  shrieked.  . 

‘‘Oh,  Charles,  have  you  heard.?"  and  Mrs.  Coolidge  shrank 
back  appalled  at  this  unexpected  turn  of  affairs. 

“Yes,"  he  said,  in  a hollow  voice,  and  casting  a look  of 
withering  contempt  upon  Isabel.  “I  see  now  why  you  were  so 
anxious  to  get  rid  of  me.  I mistrusted  something  was  not 
right,  and  after  sending  Brov/n  to  the  village  to  execute  your 
commission,  I came  in  by  the  lawn  window,  as  it  was  nearer. 
I entered  just  as  Mrs.  Dredmond  opened  the  casket  of  Jewell 
and  instantly  a great  deal  was  explained  to  me.  I was  so  over- 
come by  the  discovery  that  I dropped  upon  the  divan  behind 
the  curtains,  where  I have  remained,  a silent  witness  of  all  that 
has  occurred  in  this  room." 

Adrian,  deepest  sympathy  in  his  face,  went  to  him,  and 
taking  his  hand,  said,  with  emotion  : 

“Believe  me,  Charles,  God  knows  I would  have  saved  you 
from  this  if  I could.  You  do  not  deserve  it." 

He  groaned  aloud  at  these  words  of  sympathy ; then  wring- 
ing his  hand  he  dropped  it,  and  advancing  to  his  - mother, 
demanded,  in  cold,  hard  tones : 

“ Madam,  where  is  my  brother 

“Your  brother — oh,  my  boy  !"  she  began,  between  her  sobs, 


WOULD  HE  FORGIVE  HER? 


455 


'"Yes,  my  brother.  I demand  him  at  your  hands,  and  may 
God  forgive  you  for  your  iniquity — I am  afraid  I never  can.  ’’ 
The  shriek  which  burst  from  her  died  suddenly  upon  her  lips, 
and  the  look  of  anguish  in  her  eyes  froze  into  one  of  terror,  as 
the  drawing-room  door  slowly  swung  back,  revealing  a strange 
picture  within  its  frame — the  little,  bent  form  of  Lady  Ruxley, 
her  old  and  withered  face  full  of  a stern  resolve,  one  band  rest- 
ing upon  her  cane,  the  other  upon  the  arm  of  Herbert  Randal  I 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

WOULD  HE  FORGIVE  HER? 

Lady  Ruxley  had  arranged  with  one  of  the  servants  that  she 
was  to  be  notified  whenever  Mr.  Dredmond  and  his  wife  shouW 
come.  Consequently  she  had  received  the  intelligence  of  then 
arrival  almost  immediately. 

She  knew  that  Adrian  would  make  a clean  breast  of  every- 
thing, and  she  reasoned  that  it  would  be  the  best  time  now  for 
Herbert  to  be  introduced  to  his  brother  and  their  friends,  and 
have  his  future  position  in  the  family  established  at  once. 

She  had  kept  the  young  man  with  her  until  Lady  Randal  re- 
turned from  Paris,  when  he  insisted  upon  returning  to  his  old 
quarters  until  his  existence  should  be  made  known  to  his 
brother;  and  this  meeting  with  Sir  Charles  had  caused  him 
many  sleepless  nights  and  much  anxious  thought.  He  had  hes- 
ited  now  with  an  undefinable  dread  at  his  heart  about  making 
his  appearance,  but,  after  a second  thought,  he  had  yielded  to 
Lady  Ruxley  s command,  feeling  that  it  would  be  better  k)x  all 
parties  to  have  the  matter  settled  for  all  time. 

She  bad  learned  to  love  the  quiet,  gentle  young  man  during 


456 


V/OULD  HE  FORGIVE  HER? 


the  short  time  he  had  been  with  her;  he  was  so  attentive  and 
entertaining  that  he  made  her  forget  her  bodily  ailments, 
while  he  shamed  her  by  his  own  patience  and  submission  into 
repressing  her  fretfulness  and  grumbling. 

She  seemed  to  have  grown  younger  since  she  had  had  this 
new  object  in  life  to  interest  her,  and  she  now  entered  the  room 
in  a brisk,  decided  manner,  her  wrinkled  face  all  alive,  and  her 
keen  eyes  on  the  alert  to  watch  and  read  every  movement  and 
expression. 

Herbert  was  very  pale,  but  quiet,  and  there  was  a certain 
dignity  and  decision  in  his  manner  which  plainly  told  that  he 
was  resolved  henceforth  to  assert  his  rights. 

Lady  Randal  started  up  wildly  as  they  entered. 

'^How  came  you  here — what  right  have  you  to  come  here?” 
she  demanded,  almost  fiercely. 

'‘The  right  of  a free  man,  mother,”  was  his  quick  but  firm 
reply. 

“Ha!”  exclaimed  Lady  Ruxley,  bitterly.  “I  suppose  yoif 
Jid  not  fill  up  the  measure  of  your  wickedness  in  your  youth 
Helen,  and  so  you  must  needs  hide  this  innocent  child,  deny- 
ing him  all  love  and  care,  and  his  rightful  place  in  his  own 
home.” 

“Spare  me  now,  aunt— -I  suffer  enough,”  groaned  the  un- 
happy woman,  who  had  sunk  back  trembling  again  at  her  son's 
reply. 

“Spare  you  I Whom  have  you  spared,  I should  like  to 
know,  if  they  happened  to  obstruct  your  path?  Look  back 
over  your  past  life,  think  of  your  victims,  and  repent  before  it 
is  too  late.  I only  regret  that  I did  not  know  of  this  wrong 
earlier;  it  should  have  been  righted  long  ago,  I promise  you. 
Charles,”  and  she  turned  suddenly  upon  him,  searching  his 
face  eagerly  with  her  keen  gray  eyes,  “this  is  your  brother !” 
He  had  always  been  her  ideal  of  manliness  and  excellence : 


Would  he  forgive  her? 


45? 

she  deemed  him  noble,  self-sacrificing,  chivalrous,  but  sh^ 
knew  that  this  was  a test  which  would  try  his  very  soul. 

Would  he  be  equal  to  it,  and  still  be  the  noble  man  she 
thought  him } 

She  dreaded  yet  longed  for  the  issue,  while  every  one  in  that 
room  stood  silent,  almost  breathless,  awaiting  the  meeting  of 
the  brothers. 

The  moment  the  door  had  opened,  and  his  eyes  had  fallen 
upon  his  crippled  brother.  Sir  Charles  had  stood  as  one  trans- 
hxed. 

The  hideous  deformity  had  been  the  first  thing  to  attract  his 
attention,  of  course.  That  misplaced  head,  the  misshapen 
shoulders,  the  withered,  helpless  hand,  the  twisted  leg  and  foot 
had  struck  a terrible  feeling  to  his  heart.  Then  his  eyes  had 
sought  the  sad,  pale  face  with  an  eager,  searching  gaze,  as  if 
seeking  to  know  something  of  the  soul  within  that  distorted 
body. 

At  once  he  marked  the  grandly-shaped  head,  with  its  broad, 
square  forehead,  which  looked  almost  majestic  beneath  the 
crown  of  snowy  hair.  He  marked  the  delicate,  refined  features, 
the  deep,  true,  blue  eyes,  with  their  dark,  sweeping  lashes,  the 
sensitive,  expressive  mouth,  and  the  firm,  decided  chin. 

It  was  a noble,  attractive  face,  and  as  he  looked,  the  shock 
of  repulsion  which  he  had  at  first  experienced  passed,  and  in 
its  place  came  a tender  pity  and  affection  born  of  sympathy  and 
the  knowledge  that  this  was  his  kin — his  brother. 

At  Lady  Ruxley  s words  he  went  eagerly  toward  him,  and 
clasping  his  hand  in  a strong,  protecting  clasp,  exclaimed  : 

“My  brother!  How  glad  I am  for  the  gift,  even  though  it 
c^mes  so  late.  Shall  we  begin  to  love  each  other  now,  Her" 
bert.?" 

rhe  two  men — one  so  strong,  handsome,  and  self-reliant  in 
his  glorious  manhood,  the  other  so  weak  and  helpless  in  his  de- 


WOULD  HE  F0RGIP*E  HERr 


458 

formity — gazed  into  each  other  s eyes  with  a look  which  seemed 
to  read  their  very  souls,  and  the  tears  started  unbidden  to  each. 

Though  outwardly  so  different  in  appearance,  their  natures 
were  alike — grand  and  pure. 

‘'God  bless  you,  my  brother  !”  murmured  Herbert  Randal, 
with  quivering  lips,  while  a deep  joy,  such  as  he  had  never 
known  in  all  his  life  before,  thrilled  him  through  and  through. 

He  had  not  been  prepared  for  any  such  reception  as  this. 
From  his  aunt's  description  of  his  brother,  he  had  hoped  to  be 
kindly  received,  and  his  presence  perhaps  tolerated ; but  this 
hearty  gathering  into  the  arms  of  his  affection  moved  him 
deeply. 

Isabel  Coolidge,  looking  on  and  beholding  this  scene,  saw 
hei**!!  in  a new  light.  She  was  bowed  with  shame  and  humil- 
iation at  the  thought  of  her  own  selfish,  wasted  life,  while  she 
realized  the  grandness  of  Sir  Charles’  nature  as  she  had  never 
done  before,  and  knew  she  was  unfit  to  mate  with  him. 

She  knew,  also,  although  he  had  spoken  no  word  to  that 
effect,  that  that  hour  would  probably  separate  them  forever. 

"Charles!  Charles  I my  dear  boy!"  cried  Lady  Ruxley,  in 
trembling  tones,  while  tears  rained  over  her  wrinkled  face,  "I 
hoped  you  would  stand  this  test  of  character  nobly.  I have 
always  been  proud  of  you,  but  God  knows  that  I love  you  at 
this  moment  with  a deeper  love  than  ever  before." 

"Dear  aunt,  surely  you  did  not  expect  I should  reject  my 
brother.?*"  he  said,  in  surprise,  then  added,  as  he  saw  how 
affected  she  was:  "Come,  let  me  take  you  to  a seat" 

He  led  her  to  a comfortable  chair,  and  then,  while  Lord  Dun- 
forth  and  his  party  exchanged  greetings  with  his  brother,  he 
went  and  stood  once  more  before  his  mother. 

He  was  very  grave  and  sorrowful,  and  the  brightness  and  an- 
imation which  had  lighted  up  his  face  for  a few  moments  had 
given  place  to  a painful  pallor  again. 

"Mother."  he  began,  in  low  but  firm  tones,  "I  will  not  up- 


WOULD  HE  FORGIVE  HER? 


459 


braid  ycu  for  this  cruel  wrong,  for  I know  that  your  own  con* 
science  will  reprove  you  more  sharply  than  I have  the  heart  to 
do ; but  I wish  it  to  be  distinctly  understood  that  Herbert  and 
I are  henceforth  to  live  upon  terms  of  equality.  Whatever  I 
have  of  this  world's  goods  that  he  can  share,  he  shall  share,  and 
I bespeak  for  him  in  the  future  your  tenderest  love  and  care, 
and  the  respect  and  consideration  of  the  entire  household. " 

Lady  Randal  could  only  reply  by  cries  and  sobs ; she  was 
utterly  unnerved.  The  plottings  of  a lifetime  had  been  brought 
to  naught  in  an  hour. 

He  then  turned  his  attention  to  Mrs.  Coolidge,  who  was  sit- 
ting, sullen  and  crest-fallen,  near  by. 

“Madam,"  he  said,  haughtily,  “the  carriage  will  be  at  your 
disposal  at  any  hour  you  may  see  fit  to  name.  I will  see, " and 
a spasm  of  pain  crossed  his  face,  ' ‘ that  our  friends  are  all  noti- 
fied that  their  presence  here  on  Wednesday  will  not  be  accept- 
able, since,  after  the  cruelties  and  deceptions  brouglft  to  light 
to-day,  I must  decline  the  honor  of  your  daughter's  hand  and 
an  alliance  with  your  family. 

“And,  oh,  Isabel !"  he  said,  suddenly  facing  the  nearly  faint- 
ing girl,  and  almost  unnerved  himself,  “may  God  forgive  you 
for  your  part  in  this  matter.  I deemed  you  so  good  and  true 
that  I had  built  my  strongest  hopes  upon  spending  a happy  and 
useful  life  with  you.  The  vail  has  been  rudely  torn  from  my 
eyes,  but  it  is  better  now  than  later." 

She  cowered  beneath  his  words  as  if  every  one  had  been  a 
cruel  blow  struck  upon  her  naked  heart, 
j “Forgive  me,  oh,  forgive  me !"  she  cried,  with  an  agonized 
j look;  “the  loss  of  your  love  and  respect  is  more  than  I can 


“I  feel  less  of  anger  than  of  sorrow,"  he  returned;  “but 
there  are  others  whose  forgiveness  you  should  seek  also,"  ani 
he  glanced  at  Mrs.  Dredmond. 

She  looked  up  at  him,  eagerly  searching  his  sad  face. 


WOULD  HE  FORGIVE  HER? 


forgive  her,  and  open  his  arms  to  her  again,  if  she 
sh  3uld  bto  repentant  and  humble  ? 

But  no;  there  was  no  answering  eagerness  in  his  eye,  and 
shb>  saw  that  the  discovery  of  her  falsehood  and  cruelty  had 
parted  them  hopelessly,  and  she  could  not  be  his  wife;  her 
falsehood,  cruelty,  and  deceit  had  built  an  impassable  barrier 
between  them,  and,  filled  with  bitter  agony,  she  felt  at  that 
moment  as  if  she  would  rather  have  had  her  tongue  torn  out 
by  the  roots  than  humble  herself  to  Adrian  Dredmond's  wife. 

Sir  Charles  saw  her  face  harden  and  darken  with  passion, 
and,  while  he  sighed  over  the  wickedness  of  her  heart,  he  yet 
wondered  how  he  ever  could  have  been  so  blinded  and  deceived 
by  her. 

Shall  I take  you  to  Mrs.  Dredmond?”  he  pleaded,  longing 
for  he^  own  sake  to  have  her  acknowledge  her  wrong-doing, 
and  hating  to  lose  all  respect  for  her. 

‘‘No,  I thank  you.  Sir  Charles.  Do  you  think,  after  this 
day's  doing,  that  I could  ever  bow  down  to  her?''  she  sneered, 
trying  to  brave  it  out,  though  her  face  looked  drawn  and  pinched 
from  the  torture  she  was  suffering. 

He  half  turned  from  her  in  disgust,  and  saw  that  Brownie 
herself  was  approaching  them. 

She  held  out  her  hand  to  him,  and  he  clasped  it  warmly— 
every  spark  of  the  resentment  which  he  had  cherished  since  they 
met  in  London  gone  from  his  heart. 

She  then  turned  to  Mrs.  Coolidge  and  Isabel,  saying,  in 
rweet,  low  tones : 

“I  wish  to  tell  you  before  we  go,  that  I harbor  no  unkind 
leelings  toward  either  of  you.  I sincerely  regret  that  our  visit 
to-day  should  have  accasioned  you  so  much  pain,  and  Lwish 
you  to  feel  that  it  was  no  spirit  of  revenge  which  prompted  it. 
I thought  perhaps  it  might  be  a comfort  to  you  to  know  before 
we  part  forever, " she  went  on,  the  tears  starting  to  her  beautifui 
eyes,  “that  I wish  you  well.^' 


WOZJLB  HE  EORGIVE  HER? 


461 


^^Yes.  I suppose,  now  you’re  at  the  top  of  the  heap,  you 
thi/ik  you  have  a right  to  crow  over  us,”  snapped  Mrs,  Coolidge, 
coarsely. 

Sir  Charles’  face  flushed  an  angr}^  red  at  this  insult,  and  h«> 
made  a motion  of  disgust,  inwardly  giving  thanks  that  his 
had  been  opened  before  it  was  too  late,  although  so  rudely. 

The  delicate  color  in  Brownie’s  cheek  deepened  a trifle,  but 
she  answered,  kindly : 

‘‘I  am  sorry  you  think  that  I have  the  least  feeling  of  triumph, 
fur  I have  not,  and  I believe  there  • will  come  a time  in  the 
future  when  you  will  both  feel  differently  toward  me.  Now  I 
would  like  to  tell  you  something,  which  I once  refused  ''o. 
Those  initials,  E.  H.,  which  you  discovered  marked  upon  so 
many  articles  in  my  room,  stand  for  Elinor  Hungerford,  which 
was  my  mother’s  maiden  name.” 

“Strange  that  we  did  not  think  of  that/’  ejaculated  Isabel,  in 
astonishment.  ' ‘ But  it  seemed  out  of  pUce  to  find  such  elegant 
things  vaypur  possession.” 

“I  know,”  Brownie  said,  gently,  with  a compassionate  look 
111  her  face,  and  then  addressing  Mrs.  f "oolidge  again,  she  said  : 
“And  now,  if  you  will  not  consider  me  presuming,  I wish  to 
ask  a little  fevor  of  you.” 

Sir  Charles  Hstened  in  amazement 

This  injured,  insulted  girl,  forgetting  all  past  abuse  and  suf- 
fering, and  giving  them  the  comfort  of  granting  her  a favor  I 

Surely  this  was  that  “charity  which  suffereth  long,  and  is 
kind ; which  vaunteth  not  itself,  seeketh  not  her  own,  and  is 
not  easily  provoked.  ” 

Even  Mrs.  Coolidge  herself  could  not  understand  this,  for, 
looking  up  astonished,  she  ejaculated  : 

^'You  ask  a favor  of  me,  after ” 

“Yes,  please,”  interrupted  the  young  wife,  hastily.  “I  wish 
to  see  Viola  and  Alma  just  for  a few  moments,  to  bid  them 
good-by  and  give  them  a little  token  of  my  love,  if  you  do  not 


462 


WOULD  H£  FORGIVE  HER? 


object.  I probably  shall  not.  have  another  opportunity  of  seeing 
them." 

The  tears  sprang  to  Brownie's  eyes  as  she  said  this.  She  had 
i;rown  to  love  the  warm-hearted,  impulsive  girls  very  dearly 
during  the  short  time  she  had  been  with  them. 

Mrs.  Coolidge  did  not  reply  for  a moment.  She  was  look- 
ing very  sober,  and  seemed  almost  at  a loss  how  to  receive  this 
request. 

‘‘Shall  I ring  for  them  to  be  sent  here.?"  asked  Sir  Charles,, 
coming  forward. 

“If  you  please,  unless  Mrs.  Coolidge  objects,"  answered 
Brownie,  waiting  for  her  assent. 

“I  do  not  object,"  she  said,  briefly,  and  Sir  Charles  sent  the 
message. 

The  girls  were  delighted,  and  clung  to  their  old  governess  in 
a way  to  show  that  she  had  won  their  hearts  completely ; and 
when  she  quietly  slipped  a lovely  diamond  ring  upon. the  hand 
of  each,  their  joy  was  a pleasure  to.  behold. 

“My  dears,"  said  Brov>^nie,  almost  weeping  as  she  thought 
she  might  never  see  them  again,  “I  know  you  will  not  forget 
me — that  you  will  remember  me  whenever  you  look  upon  this 
ring,  but  I want  to  ask  you  to  remember  something  else  also.'' 

“What  is  it.  Miss  Douglas — I mean  Mrs.  Dredmond.?  We 
will  do  anything  in  the  world  that  you  ask,"  they  cried. 

“Do  you  remember  what  I used  to  tell  you  about  beautiful 
lives  ?"  she  asked,  fondly. 

“Oh,  yes,"  said  gay  Alma,  becoming  suddenly  grave.  “You 
said  if  we  would  always  keep  our  hearts  pure,  our  lives  would 
be  beautiful." 

“I  ihmVyour  heart  must  be  very  pure,  for  you  are  very  beau- 
tiful, and  everybody  seems  to  love  you,"  said  Viola,  with  a look 
of  earnest  affection. 

“My  dear,  we  all  make  mistakes,  and  I am  not  above  re- 
proach ; but  whenever  you  look  at  these  stones,  which  are  so 


WOULD  HE  FOkGP/E  HERt 


463 


and  clear,  let  them  teach  you  purity.  We  may  never  meet 
eac/2  other  here  again,  but  when  we  meet  in  the  great  future,  I 
pray  I may  find  you  unspotted  from  the  world,  Brownie  re- 
plied, with  deep  emotion. 

She  then  kissed  them  tenderly,  and  they  left  the  room,  weep- 
ing, while  Sir  Charles  turned  away  to  hide  his  own  tears,  and 
marveled  at  the  beautiful  spirit  which  his  cousin's  wife  dis- 
played. 

A half-hour  later,  Lord  Dunforth,  Adrian,  and  his  wife  left 
Vallingham  Hall  with  Lady  Ruxley,  who  insisted  that  they 
ihould  spend  the  day  and  dine  with  her. 

Lady  Randal  went  to  her  own  room  and  to  bed,  too  ill  and 
heart-broken  to  sit  up.  And  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  the 
proud  Helen  Capel  was  humbled  in  the  dust. 

Surely  Miss  Mehetabel  Douglas  was  avenged  of  her  wrongig 
at  last ! 

As  Mrs.  Coolidge  and  Isabel  left  the  drawing-room  to  seek 
their  own.  Sir  Charles  said  to  the  former  : 

‘‘At  what  hour  shall  I order  the  carriage  for  you,  madam.?” 

“Really  you  are  extremely  hospitable,  it  seems  to  me.  You 
appear  to  be  very  anxious  to  get  rid  of  us,”  she  retorted, 
sharply. 

“Madam,  I think  it  will  be  the  kindest  arrangement  for  all 
of  us  for  you  to  go  as  soon  as  possible,  ” he  replied,  sadly,  but 
firmly. 

At  four  o'clock  that  afternoon  they  were  all  en  route  for  Lon- 
don, where  they  purposed  remaining  until  Mr.  Coolidge  should 
return  from  America,  when  they  hoped  to  leave  for  the  Conti- 
nent and  join  Wilbur  on  his  travels.  But  he  did  not  return  to 
them ! 

Instead,  they  shortly  received  a telegram  bidding  them  come 
home  immediately,  as  he  had  found  his  affairs  in  such  a con- 
fused state  upon  reaching  New  York  that  a failure  seemed  in- 
evitable. 


464 


ASPAS/A  COOLIDGP, 


Accordingly,  the  first  of  July  found  them  a ^dder  but  wiser 
family,  once  more  domiciled  in  their  own  New  York 

City. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

ASPASI  A COOLIDGE. 

Six  months  later  we  find  a cheerful  group  gathered  in  th^ 
breakfast-room  of  Lord  Dunforth's  house  in  London. 

Brownie  is  conspicuous  among  them,  and  is  her  own  bright, 
sweet  self,  seeming  more  like  the  happy  girl  she  was  on  that  fifth 
day  of  September  when  Adrian  first  beheld  her  in  the  Art  Gallery 
at  Philadelphia,  than  when  we  last  saw  her.  Every  day  she  is 
twining  herself  closer  and  closer  about  the  hearts  of  Lord  and 
Lady  Dunforth,  who  are  continually  sounding  her  praises,  and 
think  there  never  was  such  a wife  as  Adrian  has ; while  the  look 
of  deepening  tenderness  in  the  fond  husband's  eyes  whenever 
they  rest  upon  her,  tells  of  a wealth  of  love  found  only  in  the 
truest  and  purest  hearts. 

They  are  at  breakfast.  Brownie  has  taken  the  head  of  the  table 
lately,  as  Lady  Dunforth  says  she  is  getting  too  old  to  have  the 
responsibility  of  it,  but  in  reality  she  loves  to  sit  and  watch  the 
lovely  face  beaming  over  the  silver  urns,  and  the  dainty  littl« 
hands  as  they  flutter  like  white  doves  about  the  rich  and  glitter 
ing  service. 

And  truly  the  beautiful  young  wife,  although  she  makes  a 
lovely  picture,  presides  with  a gentle  dignity  all  her  own.  Lord 
Dunforth  has  also  resigned  his  place  to  Adrian,  and  he  and  hi« 
wife  now  sit  side  by  side. 


ASFASIA  COOLIDGE. 


465 


He  seems  to  grow  more  tender  of  his  gentle  companion  of 
late,  as  if  he  experienced  a sort  of  remorse  for  the  secret  barrier 
which  has  stood  between  them  all  these  long  years,  and  thus 
their  lives  are  being  filled  with  a blessed  content,  as,  with  their 
&ces  turned  toward  the  setting  sun,  they  calmly  await  the  even- 
ing rest. 

They  have  several  guests  this  morning  at  their  table,  and  one 
has  a very  familiar,  as  well  as  a decidedly  American  appearance. 
It  is  Mr.  Conrad,  who  has  lately  arrived  in  England  to  return  a 
portion  of  that  property  which  was  intrusted  to  his  care  so  many 
years  ago. 

The  other  guests  are  his  wife,  and  ward — Miss  Emily  Elliott 

Brownie  was  delighted  to  receive  a visit  from  them — it  seemed 
almost  to  link  her  to  the  old  life  once  more,  for  she  still  had  a 
tender  regard  for  her  native  land,  although  she  never  expected 
to  make  it  her  home  again. 

She  exerted  her  utmost  powers  to  give  them  pleasure,  and  to 
make  the  old  lawyer  forget  the  one  mistake  of  his  life  ; and  she 
has  so  far  succeeded  that  he  seems  like  the  genial  friend  of  for- 
mer days,  and  is  indeed  almost  gay  at  times. 

Adrian  had  been  giving  him  a dramatic  account  of  his  so- 
called  runaway  marriage,  and  they  had  just  concluded  a hearty 
laugh  at  his  expense,  when  the  butler  entered  with  the  mail-bag. 

‘'Now  for  the  letters  said  the  young  man,  and  he  unlocked 
the  bag  and  began  distributing  them. 

“Aha  \”  he  said,  with  a mischievous  glance  across  the  table, 
as  he  took  up  a heavy  missive  directed,  in  a round,  bold  hand, 
to  his  wife.  “May  I inquire,  madam,  what  gentleman  corr^ 
pondent  you  have  in  America 

“When  you  get  through  inspecting  the  envelope,  I will 
Inspect  the  contents,  and  then,  perhaps^  Ell  tell  you, ''  replied 
Brownie,  saucily. 

“You  see,  Mr.  Conrad,'’  said  Adrian,  turning  to  the  lawyer 
with  mock  seriousness,  “that  although  my  wife  is  getting  quite 


466 


ASPASIA  COOLIDGE. 


English  in  some  respects,  yet  the  American  independence  will 
crop  out  occasionally.  I despair  of  ever  eradicating  that  \”  he 
added,  with  a fond  look  at  the  bright  face  bent  so  earnestly  over 
the  closely-written  pages  she  had  unfolded. 

Suddenly  she  looked  up,  with  a little  exclamation  of  delight 
and  surprise. 

“Oh,  Adrian!”  she  said,  “I  have  suck  good  news  for  you  ! 
Aspasia  is  going  to  be  married— and  to  whom  do  you  think  ?” 

“Get  Mr.  Conrad  to  guess — he  knows  more  concerning  your 
acquaintances  than  I,”  Adrian  replied. 

“But  it  is  no  one  whom  Mr.  Conrad  knows  at  all,  and  you 
are  well  acquainted  with  him.  Besides,  he  is  a New  Yorker.” 

“I  am  sure  I know  of  no  one  in  New  York  who  is  marriage- 
able, unless  it  be ” 

“Well,  whom?”  Brownie  asked,  with  shining  eyes,  as  h^ 
hesitated. 

“Wilbur  Coolidge,”  he  replied,  with  a peculiar  expression. 

“And  why  not?”  she  demanded,  mischievously;  and  he 
laughed  outright. 

He  had  always  been  a trifle  sensitive  over  that  little  episoda 
in  her  life.  He  could  not  bear  the  thought  that  another  should 
even  have  presumed  to  love  her. 

“Let  me  read  you  what  she  says,”  Brownie  went  on.  “ Mr. 
Conrad  knows  all  about  her,  and  of  course  you  are  all  interested 
in  my  friends,  and  then  Aspasia  was  so  kind  when  auntie  died.” 
The  sweet  voice  always  softened  tenderly  when  speaking  of 
auntie.  “ She  begins  her  news  by  saying,”  she  continued,  re> 
ferring  to  the  letter: 

“ ‘And  now,  darling,  I have  some  wonderful  things  to  tell 
you.  In  the  first  place,  I have  abandoned,  as  I promised  you, 
my  trains  (except  for  evening  wear),  and  I trust  I have  length- 
ened my  charities,  and  received  much  personal  benefit  thereby. 
I thought  I would  try  short  dresses  before  the  Paris  Exposition, 
and  get  a little  accustomed  to  them,  for  another  such  experi- 


ASFASIA  COOLIDGE. 


467 


(Mice  as  I went  through  with,  the  fifth  of  one  September  would 
finish  me  entirely.  Speaking  of  the  Paris  Exposition  brings  me 
to  another  important  point.  I am  making  extensive  prepara- 
tions for  a European  tour,  and,  if  nothing  happens,  I intend  ta 
run  over  to  England  and  take  a look  at  my  Brownie  before  I 
return.  Now,  the  cream  of  my  letter  lies  in  the  fact  that  my 
contemplated  tour  is  to  be  prefaced  by  a brief  ceremony,  which 
will  change  Aspasia  Huntington  to  Aspasia  Coolidge  ! Yes, 
dear,  I am  going  to  marry  Wilbur  Coolidge.  He  has  told  me 
all  about  his  liking  for  you,  and  I could  not  blame  the  dear  boy 
in  the  least ; for  I know  if  I had  been  a man  I should  have 
wanted  to  marry  you  myself.  I met  Mr.  Coolidge  while  in 
New  York  some  five  months  ago,  and  was  at  once  attracted 
toward  him  on  account  of  his  manly  independence.-  His 
father  has  met  with  business  reverses,  which  have  reduced  the 
family  from  their  former  magnificence  to  almost  a state  of  pov- 
erty. Wilbur  has  proved  himself  a man  in  the  emergency, 
putting  his  shoulder  to  the  wheel,  devoting  himself  to  his 
profession — that  of  the  law — and  has  done  much  toward  the 
support  of  his  mother  and  sisters ; consequently,  I am  very 
proud  of  him. 

‘‘‘Now,  I want  to  tell  you  a little  about  Isabel  and  the  rest 
of  the  family,  but  particularly  about  her,  for  I know  all  that 
you  have  suffered  from  her  unkindness  in  the  past,  although  you 
have  never  written  me  a word  about  it. 

“‘Mrs.  Coolidge  is  a confirmed  invalid,  entirely  broken 
4own  by  disappointment  and  their  reduced  circumstances ; but 
Isabel,  instead  of  being  the  weak-minded,  vain,  and  selfish  be- 
ing every  one  thought  her  to  be,  has,  like  Wilbur,  risen  nobly 
Above  their  calamities,  takes  the  whole  charge  of  the  household 
affairs  and  of  her  mother,  with  whom  she  is  as  patient  as  an 
angel.  But  she  is  the  saddest  creature  I ever  saw,  and  I be- 
lieve the  girls  heart  is  really  broken,  for  her  brother  tells  me  she 
did  truly  love  and  esteem  Sir  Charles  Randal,  notwithstanding 


468 


ASPASIA  COOLTDGE. 


her  inordinate  desire  to  obtain  a high  position  in  the  world.  She 
never  speaks  of  herself  or  her  sorrow,  but  devotes  herself  to 
others.  Whatever  her  past  errors  may  have  been,  she  is  aton- 
ing nobly  for  th'em,  and  I believe  will  come  out  of  this  furnace 
t pure,  good  woman.'' 

“ ‘The  other  girls,  Viola  and  Alma,  are  charming,  and  they 
can  never  say  enough  in  praise  of  Lady  Dredmond,  as  they 
persist  in  calling  you.  They  told  me  about  your  gift  of  the 
rings,  and  I think  they  are  really  striving  for  that  purity  of  char- 
acter which  you  recommended. 

“'New,  dearest,  you  may  expect  to  see  me  about  the  first 
of  February,  and  don't  I long  to  clasp  you  once  again  in  my 
arms,  my  Brownie,  for,  dear,  it  is  to  you  I feel  I owe  the  higher 
and  better  views  which  I now  have  of  life. 

“ ‘Ever  your  loving  friend, 

‘ ‘ ‘ Aspasia  Huntington.  * 

This  letter  was  like  a gleam  of  the  brightest  sunshine  to 
Brownie.  She  Icnged  to  see  the  friend  of  her  youth,  and  shf 
was  delighted  to  know  that  she  was  to  marry  Wilbur  Coolidge. 
She  knew  she  would  make  him  a good  wife,  and  she  felt  that 
he  was  worthy  of  her ; sho  had  always  respected  him  for  his 
manliness  and  good  principles^  notwithstanding  he  was  some- 
times led  into  error  by  the  infiuence  of  his  mother  and  sister. 

She  had  not  seen  him  since  they  parted  that  day  when  she 
left  his  father's  house  in  London  in  such  trouble ; but  she  was 
sincerely  glad  that  there  was  a prospect  of  meeting  him  again, 
and  she  rejoiced  that  he  was  to  be  made  happy  by  the  love  of  a 
good,  true  woman. 

Her  tears  fell  as  she  thought  of  Viola  and  Alma  striving  so 
earnestly  to  reach  her  standard  of  excellence,  while  her  deepest 
sympathies  were  stirred  for  the  misguided  L^abel,  who  was  be- 
ing tried  in  such  a fiery  furnace  and  bade  fair  to  C >me  forth 
purified. 

“I  shall  show  this  letter  to  Sir  Charles,'^  she  aaid^  wlacn  she 


ASPAS/A  COOLIDGE,  469 

alone  with  Adrian,  and  had  read  it  a second  time.  ‘'But 
what  have  you  there?''  she  added,  as  she  saw  him  examining  an- 
other letter  with  a puzzied  expression. 

“I  am  trying  to  make  out  whether  this  epistle  is  directed  to 
you  or  to  me.  The  Mr.  or  Mrs,,  whichever  it  is,  is  very  indis- 
tinct," he  replied. 

“I  think  it  must  be  for  me,"  Brownie  said,  smiling.  “It  is 
a lady’s  hand,  and  the  Mrs.  looks  as  if  a tear  had  dropped 
upon  it. " 

“At  all  events,  you  may  have  the  privilege  of  opening  it,'* 
mid  Adrian,  giving  it  to  her. 

She  did  so,  and  all  doubt  was  removed  as  she  read  : 

“My  Dear  Mrs.  Dredmond  : — If  you  will  allow  me  to  ad- 
dress you  thus,  after  all  the  trying  events  of  the  past.  Since 
misfortune  has  come  upon  us,  and  I now  occupy  an  hiimblet 
position  than  even  you  did  when  you  were  with  us,  my  eyes 
have  been  opened,  and  I now  see  my  wickedness  in  all  its  enor- 
mity. I cannot  rest  until  I tell  you  how  sincerely  I repent  of 
my  unkindness  to  you,  and  ask  you  to  forgive  me  if  you  can. 
Your  lovely  spirit  and  example  on  that  last  dreadful  day  at  Val- 
lingham  Hall  shamed  while  it  maddened  me,  but  the  memory 
of  it  has  since  conquered  me.  I grieve  continually  over  my 
treatment  of  you,  and  the  sinfulness  which  has  ruined  my  own 
life  and  wronged  others ; yet  I can  truthfully  say  that  I rejoica 
that  the  right  triumphed,  and  that  you  are  now  happy. 

“I  do  wrong,  perhaps,  to  say  that  my  life  is  ruined,  for 
although  much  of  it  has  been  wasted,  and  the  crowning  joy  of 
womanhood  denied  me,  yet  I can,  God  helping  me,  improvi 
the  future  by  making  myself  useful  to  others,  and,  in  so  far  as  1 
am  able,  atone  for  the  past.  A word  from  you  will  greatly 
comfort  me. 

“Very  truly,  yours, 

“New  York,  Dec.  15,  1877  " 


Isabel  CooLiDdx. 


470 


A SPA  S/A  COOLIDGE. 


“Poor  child  ! she  was  good  at  heart  after  all,  only  it  was  s<B 
covered  up  by  ambition  and  pride  that  no  one  was  conscious  of 
it,''  Brownie  said,  her  tears  falling  fast. 

“It  is  a very  earnest,  humble  letter,  and  I honor  her  more 
tCKiay  than  J did  when  she  stood  so  high  in  society,"  Adrian 
replied,  heartily. 

“How  submissively  yet  hopelessly  she  speaks  of  her  love  for 
Sir  Charles." 

“Yes,  poor  fellow,  this  trouble  has  been  a severe  blow  to 
him  also,"  said  her  husband. 

“I  think  I shall  drive  over  to  Lady  Randal's  to-day;  and, 
Adrian,  do  you  think  there  would  be  any  harm  in  my  showing 
him  both  these  letters?"  the  young  wife  asked,  with  a wistful 
look  in  her  dark  eyes. 

“ What  a forgiving  little — or  great  heart  you  have,  my  dar- 
ling," he  said,  as  he  read  her  thought 

“ 'Forgive  us  our  debts  as  we  forgive  our  debtors,"'  Brownie 
repeated  with  great  earnestness. 

Her  husband  stooped  and  kissed  her. 

“Do  as  you  like,  my  own;  I believe  w^herever  you  go  you 
always  carry  light  and  joy  with  you,"  he  said,  almost  reverently. 

Accordingly,  while  Lord  Dunforth  took  his  guests  to  visit 
several  points  of  interest  which  he  could  best  explain  to  them, 
Adrian  drove  his  wife  over  to  call  on  Lady  Ruxley,  who,  since 
she  had  lost  her  charming  companion,  had  taken  a deep  inter- 
est in  her  crippled  nephew,  and  now  resided  all  the  time  with 
the  family. 

Brownie’s  visits  were  always  like  gleams  of  sunshine  to  her, 
for  Lady  Randal,  since  the  developments  which  had  resulted  in 
such  mortification  to  her,  and  in  the  destruction  of  so  many 
hopes,  had  been  very  melancholy,  and  kept  her  own  room 
nearly  all  the  time,  seldom  seeing  visitors,  and  scarcely  ever 
going  abroad. 

Her  sous  were  both  very  kind  to  her,  and  exerted  themselves 


ASPASIA  COOLIDCh. 


4?I 

iii  iheef  and  comfort  her,  but  her  spirit  had  been  crushed,  and 
si  ^ could  not  rally  from  the  blow. 

A.S  for  the  young  men  themselves,  they  were  congenial 
spirits — two  noble  sons  of  a noble  father ! The  tenderest  ties 
of  affection  had  united  them  from  the  moment  of  their  first 
metering;  their  hopes,  and  aspirations,  and  sympathies  were  the 
same,  and  wherever  they  went  their  aim  was  to  do  good. 

Sir  Charles  had  opened  his  heart  at  once  to  his  brother,  and 
now  felt  that  it  would  be  difficult  to  live  without  him.  He  con- 
sulted him  regarding  every  matter  of  business,  upon  every 
altersition  and  improvement  of  the  estate,  and  found  his  sug- 
gestions and  advice  invaluable. 

As  soon  as  he  felt  he  could  do  so,  without  offending  Herbert, 
he  had  proposed  taking  him  to  a noted  surgeon  in  Paris  to  see 
if  anything  could  be  done  to  remedy  the  deformity  which  was 
so  wearisome  to  himself  and  so  unsightly  to  others. 

The  result  had  been  beyond  their  expectations,  although  the 
operation  had  involved  infinite  pain  and  patience.  The  twisted 
foot  and  leg  had  been  straightened,  and  that  bowed  head  lifted^ 
until  the  young  man  could  walk  erect  like  others.  But  the 
withered  hand,  of  course,  could  not  be  restored,  though  the  great 
surgeon  had  said  much  more  could  have  been  done  for  him  had 
he  been  treated  in  his  early  youth.  This  intelligence  the  brothers 
did  not  impart  to  their  mother,  willing  to  save  her  an  added 
pang  while  she  was  suffering  so  much. 

The  cripple's  health  had  improved  greatly  since  he  had  been 
able  to  have  plenty  of  outdoor  exercise,  and  his  face  lost  much 
of  that  deep  sadness  which  had  so  touched  Brownie  s tender 
heart  when  she  first  saw  him,  but  there  was  always  a wistful 
look  about  his  eyes  which  told  of  a life  that  had  had  but  little 
of  joy  in  it. 

Adrian's  wife  Herbert  Randal  considered  the  essence  of  per- 
fection, and  he  spent  many  hours  at  her  charming  hon>e,  and 


ASPASIA  COOLIDGE, 


47^ 

often  accompanied  her  upon  her  errands  of  mercy  among  thd 
poor,  while  she  valued  him  among  her  choicest  friends. 

Sir  Charles  also  had  the  most  profound  respect  for  her,  and 
to-d-ay,  as  she  drove  up  to  their  elegant  residence,  he  sprang  to 
assist  her  to  alight,  a most  cordial  welcome  on  his  lips  and 
shining  in  his  eyes. 

She  lingered  a moment  in  the  hall  with  him,  and  putting  her 
two  letters  in  his  hands,  said  : 

^ ^ Go  away  by  yourself  and  read  these  carefully,  while  I make 
my  call  upon  your  mother  and  Lady  Ruxley,  and  then  come 
and  tell  me  if  you  can  forgive  as  / do. 

He  looked  at  her  a moment  in  astonishment,  then  at  the 
address  upon  the  back  of  each  letter.  In  an  instant  the  colot 
flamed  into  his  face  as  he  recognized  the  handwriting  upon  one  ; 
he  lifted  his  head  haughtily,  his  lip  curled  just  a trifle  in  scorn, 
then,  turning  without  a word,  he  conducted  her  to  Lady  Rux- 
ley’s  apartments,  dispatched  a servant  to  tell  his  mother  that 
Mrs.  Dredmond  had  called,  and  quickly  withdrew  with  a 
strange  quickening  of  his  heart-pulses. 

Herbert  had  already  taken  Adrian  off  to  inspect  a new  con- 
servatory which  was  being  built. 

An  hour  passed,  which  Brownie  made  bright  and  cheerful  for 
Lady  Ruxley,  Lady  Randal  having  sent  regrets  that  she  was  not 
able  to  see  visitors  that  morning.  Then  the  gentlemen  all  came 
in  together. 

Sir  Charles  appeared  very  thoughtful,  but  there  was  a brighter 
and  more  hopeful  gleam  in  his  eye  than  there  had  been  for 
many  a day. 

He  drew  Mrs.  Dredmond  one  side  as  soon  as  he  could  do  s® 
without  attracting  too  much  notice. 

'‘Thank  you,''  he  said,  as  he  gave  back  her  letters.  "They 
have  comforted  me  greatly,  for  I had  felt,  as  she  says^  a«  if  tk4 
srowning  joy  of  life  was  to  be  denied  me  forever.'^ 

"And  now?''  Brownie  asked,  eagerly. 


A SPA  SI  A COOLIDGE, 


473 

'^What!  cdiXi  you  ^\sh.  her  happiness?''  he  demanded,  more 
fn  reply  to  her  eager  look  than  her  words. 

‘‘Ah,  yes,  poor  child,  her  suffering  has  been  worse  than 
mine.  We  do  not  any  of  us  know  our  own  weakness  until  we 
have  been  tempted.  You  and  I might  fall  even  lower  than 
Isabel  did  under  some  peculiar  temptation,  and  shall  we  pre- 
sume to  judge  one  who  trusted  in  her  own  weak  strength,  and 
who,  now  sorrowing,  has  found,  if  I am  not  mistaken,  a 
stronger  arm  to  lean  upon  ?" 

“What  a peace-maker  you  are,  Mrs.  Dredmond — ^you  con- 
quer us  all.  You  take  a very  sweet  way  to  be  revenged  upon 
your  enemies,"  Sir  Charles  exclaimed,  with  a suspicious  mois- 
ture in  his  fine  eyes. 

“I  do  not  believe  in  that  element  at  all,"  she  replied,  gently, 
“but  if  I could  win  Isabel's  love,  and  see  you  both  happy,  I 
should  ask  for  no  greater  triumph. " 

“What  greater  triumph  could  any  one  have  than  to  make  a 
friend  of  an  enemy  ?"  the  young  man  asked,  smiling  ; then  he 
added,  gravely  : “I  think  by  another  year  I may  visit  the 
United  States — it  is  always  best  to  let  patience  have  its  perfect 
work,  you  know,  then,  if  it  shall  have  accomplished  its  mis- 
sion, there  may  be  happiness  for  two  more  human  beings  in 
this  world." 

Brownie's  face  fairly  shone  at  his  words,  then,  seeing  her  hus- 
band approaching,  she  shook  him  heartily  by  the  hand,  and 
bidding  the  others  good-morning,  went  away,  leaving  the  house 
brighter  for  her  coming. 

The  young  husband  and  wife  rode  in  silence  for  several  min- 
utes. Then  Adrian,  suddenly  bending  forward,  scanned  the 
fair,  beautiful  face  eagerly. 

“What  is  it,  dear?"  she  asked,  with  a fond,  bright  smile. 

He  bent  and  touched  her  forehead  with  his  lips. 

“God  bless  you,  my  own  wife !"  was  his  reverend  benedic- 
tion. 


474 


A SPA  S/A  COOLIDGE, 


He  had  caught  Sir  Charles'  last  words,  and  knew  that  Brownie 
had  accomplished  her  mission. 

And  with  him  we  also  say  '‘God  bless  her/"  and  all  other 
pure,  true  women  who  carry  out  in  their  daily  lives  the  song  of. 
the  angel  host  on  Bethlehem's  plains,  "Peace  on  earth,  good 
will  toward  nken/' 


MRS.  MARY  J.  HOLMES’  NOVELS. 

Over  a MILLSOn  Sold. 


Tempest  and  Sunshine. 
EnKliib  Orphans. 
Homestead  on  the  Hillside. 
’Lena  Rivers. 

Meadow  Brook. 

Dora  Deane. 

Cousin  Maude. 

Marian  Grey. 

Edith  Lyle. 


As  a writer  of  domestic  stories,  which  are  extremely  interesting  without  belnf 
extravagant,  Mrs.  Mary  J.  Holmes  is  unrivalled.  Her  characters  are  true  to  life, 
quaint,  and  admirably  delineated. 

^■jaisy  Thornton.  Edna  Browning. 

CTateau  D’Or.  West  Lawn. 

Queenie  Hetherton.  Mildred. 

Darkness  and  Daylight.  Forrest  Houae. 

Hugh  Worthington.  Madeline. 

Cameron  Pride.  Christmas  Stories. 

Rose  Mather.  Bessie’s  Fortune. 

Ethelyn’s  Mistake.  Gretchen. 

Millbank.  Marguerite 

Price  $1.50  per  Vol. 

AUGUSTA  J.  EVANS’ 

IKIagnificent  Novels. 

Beulah,  $1.75  Inez,  $1.75  Vashti,  $200 

St,  Elmo,  $2.00  Macaria,  $1.75  Infelice.  $2.00 

At  the  Mercy  of  Tiberius,  New,  $2.00. 

“The  author’s  style  is  beautiful,  chaste,  and  elegant.  Her  ideas  are  clothed  in  the 
most  fascinating  imagery,  and  her  power  of  delineating  character  is  truly  remarkable.’* 

SPLENDID  NOVELS. 

Alone.  Miriam.  My  Little  Love. 

Hidden  Path.  Sunny  Bank.  Phemie’s  Temptation. 

Moss  Side.  Ruby’s  Husband.  The  Empty  Heart. 

Nemesis.  At  Last.  From  My  Youth  Up. 

Price  $1.50  per  Vol. 

“ Marion  Harland  understands  the  art  of  constructing  a plot  which  will  gain  the  atteo^ 
tioE  of  the  reader  at  the  beginning,  and  keep  up  the  interest  unbroken  to  the  laas 
page.’’— PAi/a.  Telegram. 

“Her  noveli  are  of  surpassing  excellence  and  Interest.’’— Hcwia  Journal, 

MAY  ACMES  FLEMING’S 

POPU1.AR  JVOVEI.S. 


Helen  Gardner. 
Husbands  and  Homei^ 
Jessamine. 

True  as  Steel, 


Silent  and  True. 

erful  Woman, 
ccret. 
enge. 


Kate  Danton. 

Guy  Earlscourt’e  Wife. 
Heir  of  Charlton. 
Carried  by  Storm. 

Lost  for  a Woman. 

A Wife’s  Tragedy. 


A Changed  Heart 
Pride  and  Passion. 
Sharing  Hei  Crime. 

A Wronged  Wife. 
Maude  Percy’s  Secret. 
The  Actress’  Daughter. 


he  Queen  of  the  Isle.  'The  Midnight  Queen  (New), 

Price  $1.50  per  Vol. 
g’e  stories  arc  growing  more  and  more  popular  every  day,  Thelf 
aracter,  life-like  conversatioiis,  flashes  of  \%it,  constantly  varying 
teresting  plots,  combine  to  place  their  author  In  the  very  first  rank 


inted  and  bound  in  cloth,  sold  everywhere,  and  by  mail,  postagn 

'’DILLINGHAM,  PUBLISHER. 

est  SSret  Street,  IfeTj^Yor^ 


Mrs.  Mary  J.  Ev  'lo?’  7rorks. 


TEMPEST  AND  SUNSHINE. 
ENGLISH  ORPHANS. 
HOMESTEAD  ON  HILLSIDE. 
’LENA  RIVERS. 

MEADOW  BROOK. 

DORA  DEANE. 

COUSIN  MAUDE. 

MARIAN  GREY. 

EDITH  LYLE. 

DAISY  THORNTON. 
CHATEAU  D’OR. 

QUEENIE  HETHERTON. 
BESSIE’S  FORTUNE. 
MARGUERITE.  {New.) 


V - 3S^  AND  DAYLTGf 

; "'’Om’  lINGTON. 

.:.  N i iUiN. 

.JxDELy.  MISTA^'/. 

Mil  LB.'A  '-v. 

EDlvA  B.l'  ::'NING. 

WEST  LAWN. 

MILDRED. 

FOREST  HOUSE. 
MADELINE. 

CHRISTMAS  STORIES. 
GRETCHEN. 


OPINIONS  OF  THE  PPESS. 

“Mrs.  Holmes’  stories  are  universally  read.  Her  admirers  are  numberless. 
She  is  in  many  respects  without  a rival  in  the  world  of  fiction.  Her  characters 
are  always  life-like,  and  she  makes  them  talk  and  act  like  human  beings,  subject 
to  the  same  emotions,  swayed  by  the  same  passions,  and  actuated  by  the  same 
mptives  v'hich  are  common  among  men  and  women  of  every-day  existence.  Mrs, 
Holmes  is  very  happy  in  portraying  domestic  life.  Old  and  young  peruse  her 
stories  with  great  delight,  for  she  writes  in  a style  that  all  can  comprehend.” 
—New  York  Weekly. 

Tlie  Nortli  American  Review,  vol.  81,  page  557,  says  of  Mrs.  Mary 
J.  Holmes’ novel  “English  Orphans”: — “With  this  novel  of  Mrs.  Holmes’ we 
have  been  charmed,  and  so  have  a pretty  numerous  circle  of  discriminating  readers 
to  whom  we  have  lent  it.  The  characterization  is  exquisite,  especially  so  far  as 
concerns  rural  and  village  life,  of  which  there  are  some  pictures  that  deserve  to 
be  hung  up  in  perpetual  memory  of  types  of  humanity  fast  becoming  extinct. 
The  dialogues  are  generally  brief,  pointed,  and  appropriate.  The  plot  seems 
simple,  so  easily  and  natnrally  is  it  developed  and  consummated.  Moreover,  the 
story  thus  gracefully  constructed  and  written,  inculcates  without  obtruding,  not 
only  pure  Christian  morality  in  general,  but,  with  especial  point  and  power,  the 
dependence  of  true  success  on  character,  and  df  true  respectability  on  merit.” 

“Mrs.  Holmes’  stories  are  all  of  a domestic  character,  and  their  interest, 
therefore,  is  not  so  intense  as  if  they  were  more  highly  seasoned  with  sensation- 
alism, but  it  is  of  a healthy  and  abiding'  character.  The  interest  in  her  tales 
begins  at  once,  and  is  maintained  to  the  close.  Her  sentiments  are  so  sound,  her 
sympathies  so  warm  and  ready,  and  her  knowledge  of  manners,  character,  and 
the  varied  incidents  of  ordinary  life  is  so  thorough,  that  she  would  find  it  diffi- 
cult to  write  any  other  than  an  excellent  tale,  if  she  were  to  try  \V'— Boston 
Banner. 

gtW"  The  volumes  are  all  handsomely  printed  and  bound  in  cloth 
where,  and  sent  by  mail,  postage  free^  on  receipt  of  price  [$1..50  each' 


G.  W.  DILLINGHAM,  Publisher, 


Successor  to  Gt^  W.  CABLETON 

33  W.  23d 


